Scratch the Surface
by LoriEchelon
Summary: "There was something off about Blaine Anderson, and Noah Puckerman was determined to figure out what it was." Puck decideds to dig into Blaine's life and uncovers more than he had planned on. Slightly AU, slightly OOC. M as of Chapter 8.
1. Perfection

_A/N: Warning for pretty much anything people may not want to read about and let's leave it at that. Slightly AU, slightly OOC, meaning I have taken plenty of liberties with story lines, and characters personalities. And while I love "Klaine" and enjoy reading it, I don't write it very well, typically, so sorry to disappoint, but in my story, Blaine and Kurt are just good friends. Don't like it, then don't read it. Simple as that. Other major plot lines I have disregarded include, Puck and Lauren, sorry but I just don't buy their relationship, it doesn't mesh, so no Lauren will be found here. Anything else you think I fucked up, just assume it was intentional because the plot line didn't work for my ff, or merely because it's a plot line I just didn't like. Main characters in this will include, to some degree or another, Blaine, Puck, Kurt, Finn, Santana, Brittany and Will. Chapters will get longer as I get more into the story, hopefully. This is just kinda playing around to see where it goes and what happens. Also no promises as to the frequency of updates, I'm a single mother with a full time job who does freelance art and writing on the side, so I have very little spare time. That's all. Read on if you want to still!_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except some Glee DVDs and MP3s, and there was only monetary loss from this most certainly not gain.**

There was something off about Blaine Anderson, and Noah Puckerman was determined to figure out what it was. The guy was just too damn nice, too damn charming, and too damned perfect all the time, and that set Puck's teeth on edge. He hated Blaine the first time he'd met him, and he had made it his personal mission to figure out what that pretty boy was up to behind closed doors.

"C'mon, man. Kurt and Blaine are pretty good friends, right? And you live with Kurt, so I'm sure Blaine is over all the fuckin' time. So you're seriously telling me you've never noticed anything weird about him?"

"Yes, Puck, I've told you a thousand times. There's nothing wrong with Blaine. He's a nice guy, he's friendly and I've never so much as seen him lose his temper. Why exactly do you hate him so much? Best I can tell, there is absolutely nothing wrong with the guy. Maybe you should let it drop. I don't know why you care so much anyway," Finn raised his eyebrows at his friend, smirking slightly, trying to get a rise out of him.

"Shut the fuck up, Hudson. I just don't like him. Even his name is stupid," Puck muttered, his annoyance showing.

"Man," Finn laughed, slapping Puck on the back. "You can call Blaine a lot of things, but stupid certainly isn't one of them. I'm gonna be late for fourth period, let's just catch up after school," Finn was still grinning as he jogged off down the hall, leaving a seething Puck behind him.

Puck couldn't put his finger on what it was about the prep school kid that irked him, but something rubbed him the wrong way. No one was that nice, that polite, that godamned happy all the time unless they were hiding something. And Puck was going to figure out exactly what it was that Blaine was hiding.

Blaine left Dalton the second last period was over, throwing a goodbye wave over his shoulder to the other Warblers, before yanking open the door to his car and tossing his book bag haphazardly onto the passenger seat. He pulled his iPhone from the pocket of his uniform, scrolling down his messages and replying to Kurt's message asking if they were still on for coffee. _Yup. Your car still in the shop? Need me to pick you up from McKinley?_

He flipped down his visor, and glanced in the mirror, making sure not a single hair was out of place, flipping it back up when all was right and then impatiently tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the ping that would indicate a reply from Kurt. It came a few seconds later, and Blaine read the reply, then started his car and headed in the direction of McKinley.

Pulling into the parking lot, he got out of his car and walked into the building looking for his friend, hoping to find him fast so he didn't have to spend any more time than necessary at this school. He also hoped that Kurt was alone when he found him because the thought of the awkward small talk and discomfort that always ensued when he was forced to converse with Kurt's friends from McKinley left a bitter taste in his mouth. Ignoring the comments from the public school kids about his uniform he kept his eyes peeled for Kurt, visibly relaxing when he saw that Kurt was alone, aside from Mercedes whom he seemed to be saying goodbye to anyway.

Blaine was almost upon a now lone Kurt, when his path was blocked but one of his least favorite members of the New Directions.

"What's up, Blaine? How's life at that all boys school?" Puck blocked his path, a slight sneer on his face. There was certainly no love lost between these boys. Blaine wasn't entirely sure why Puck seemed to dislike him so much, but honestly he wasn't Puck's biggest fan either, so he left his autograph book in his pocket and gave Puck an insincere smile.

"Noah," he nodded curtly. "Dalton is just fine, thank you. How's life in public school?"

Puck glared at him, and then glanced back at where Kurt was making his way towards the pair. "I'm onto you, Anderson. There's something not right about you, and I _will_ figure it out, and I _will_ expose you for the fraud you are," Puck muttered in Blaine's ear, before pulling away as Kurt reached them.

"Blaine, always good to see you man. Have a great day," Puck grinned brightly at Kurt, nodding goodbye and slapping Blaine on the back much more forcibly than necessary, before striding off down the hallway.

"Ready?" Blaine asked Kurt, already turning around to leave without waiting for an answer.

They had almost made it to Blaine's car when Kurt's Glee coach, Will Schuester, stopped them.

"Kurt, Blaine," He gave the boys a friendly grin. "Where are you guys off to?"

"Coffee," Blaine responded, wanting to get the hell out of there even more now. Adults were not his thing. He hated them, to be honest, Especially the ones like Will Schuester, who pretended to care about the teenagers they knew, and gave the speeches about how 'they were always there for you, and they believe in you and blah, blah, blah.' Inwardly, Blaine rolled his eyes. Outwardly though, he shook Will's outstretched hand and gave him his infamous charming grin. "How was your day, sir?" He asked politely.

"It was good. Have fun you two. Kurt, I'll see you for Glee practice tomorrow, Blaine, have a nice night."

Will watched Blaine and Kurt get in his car and leave, before shaking his head with a small smile. He'd met Blaine on numerous occasions now, not to mention seen him perform live, but he still felt like the kid was a mystery. Almost more of robot than an actual teenager in high school. He was always super polite, always had a ready smile and Will wasn't sure he'd ever once seen him outside of that Dalton Academy uniform. He got the feeling there was a lot more going on behind that mask of perfection and charm then the boy let on.

He had no proof for his suspicions, but there always seemed to be this look lurking deep within the boy's eyes that things were nowhere near as wonderful as he led everyone to believe. He hoped he was wrong and that wasn't the case, for the boy's sake as well as for Kurt's sake, since it was nice to see Kurt finally having a good, healthy male friendship, but he just couldn't quite push down the feeling in his gut that something in that boy's life was horribly wrong.

Will made a silent vow to keep his eyes open for anything out of the norm, and then shrugged off his thoughts as he left to go home for the day.


	2. Pills

Kurt sipped his coffee slowly, and studied the boy across the table from him. Blaine had been unusually silent today, and Kurt was pretty sure he hadn't smiled even once since they got in the car and headed to the Lima Bean.

"Everything okay?" Kurt finally questioned.

Blaine raised his eyes up to Kurt over the top of his coffee cup and gave him a smile. "Everything is fine, why wouldn't it be?"

Kurt shrugged, and returned the smile as they lapsed back into silence. He watched Blaine fidget with the edge of his white dress sleeve, checking that it was buttoned almost obsessively. His eyebrows furrowed in worry, it was just another small sign of how off Blaine was today. He wasn't the fidgety type. He was too in control all the time to allow himself to fidget. Kurt realized in his mind that it probably wasn't a good thing that he knew that Blaine never fidgeted, it proved his theory that he probably paid just a little too much attention to detail where Blaine was concerned, especially since the other boy was supposedly straight. Kurt made a silent promise to himself that this would not become another situation like what had happened with Finn, and so he gently chastised himself and reminded himself that he and Blaine were just friends, and that's all they ever would be. Even if Kurt wasn't completely convinced of Blaine's heterosexuality.

Kurt finally got sick of the lack of conversation and lunged into a long, drawn out, overly detailed story about something Puck and Santana had been fighting about in Glee last week.

Blaine nodded along, pretending to listen and attempting to give the correct, noncommittal responses at the appropriate times. He honestly could not have cared less about Puck and Santana and their non-relationship. But he didn't want to offend Kurt, and he didn't have the heart to tell him that he didn't give a shit, so instead he pretended to be interested while making plans in his head for how to make tonight go as smoothly as possible. Just like he did everyday. He never knew what he'd be walking into, so he tended to have about five different plans of action for each night, so he wouldn't be thrown for a loop if an unexpected situation arose. Because none of the situations would ever be unexpected. He expected all of them, and he was prepared for all of them.

Blaine had just started his senior year of high school, which was a huge relief to him. It meant there was actually an end in sight. For the first time in his life there was a sun peeking over the horizon, trying to break through the storm clouds and it was a welcome relief. One year left. He could make it. One day at a time. One night a time. He could make it, and he would make it. In one year he'd be leaving for college at some highly prestigious Ivy League school, there was no doubt about that in his mind. The admissions offices at all the top Ivy Leagues had already been in contact with him and had all shown an interest in him, so he knew he'd get accepted into one, of not all of them. And then he was gone.

He was going to leave without ever looking back. Put all this bullshit behind him, and instead of hiding it he could finally just forget it. Forget all of it. Keep on pretending that everything was wonderful for twelve more months and then maybe, just maybe, everything really could be wonderful. The one thing Blaine knew for a fact was that when he left Westerville, he was never coming back. He'd get a job the second he got to college, rent an apartment, and not even have to return home for holidays or vacations. His father would pay for tuition to whatever school he chose, so long as it was on his father's list of pre-approved colleges for an Anderson man, so he wouldn't have to worry about that. But he knew once he left that was the only thing his father would pay for. The rest would be up to him. Food, clothing, car payments and insurance, phone bills, rent, it would all fall on his shoulders, so he'd probably have to pull at least one full time job while going to school, if not two, but that didn't matter to him. He was no stranger to hard work. What mattered to Blaine was getting the fuck out of Ohio and away from his family. Every single one of them.

"Was that a yes or no?" Kurt's voice finally penetrated Blaine's thoughts.

"I'm sorry?" Blaine looked up startled. "I didn't hear the question, could you repeat it?"

"I asked if you wanted another coffee?" Kurt repeated, sounding slightly annoyed.

"Yes, sure, that would be great. But just one more and then I have to get home, I have a ton of homework tonight," Blaine smiled up at his friend, who rolled his eyes and stalked off towards the counter. Blaine waited until Kurt was ordering from the barista and not paying attention to him before he reached into the pocket of his discarded Dalton jacket and pulled out a few pills from the bottle in it. Swallowing them down rapidly with the last of his coffee, he patiently waited on Kurt to bring him a brand new cup.

* * *

><p>Puck turned his car down the long, winding driveway and let out a low whistle at the hulking mansion in front of him. He checked his phone to make sure Santana hadn't texted a warning that Kurt and Blaine had left the Lima Bean, shut off his engine and exited his car, making his way towards the massive, double doors. He rang the doorbell and waited until someone finally answered it before plastering an innocent, sweet look on his face.<p>

"Yes?" Asked a tall, older man impatiently. Puck had no doubt in his mind that this was Blaine's dad, because Puck felt like he was looking at Blaine in twenty five years time.

"Mr. Anderson? My name is Noah Puckerman, I'm a friend of your son, Blaine? We were studying at the library and he realized he forgot his Algebra book. I'm supposed to run up to his room and grab it for him," Puck lied smoothly.

The older man's brow furrowed, unconvinced. "I wasn't aware Blaine was taking Algebra this semester."

Puck was trying to quickly think up a way to save his story and gain entrance into Blaine's room when the man shrugged. "Whichever, I can't keep up with his course schedule," He opened the door allowing Puck to enter into an impressive foyer. Pointing up the steps, Mr. Anderson told Puck it was the third door on the left, and then walked out of the room.

Puck idly wondered what exactly Blaine's dad did for a living that allowed him to be home at four on a week day afternoon and pay for this house, but he noted that really wasn't the mystery he wanted to solve right now, and headed towards Blaine's room. Opening the door he was a little let down. For such an expansive house, he would have expected Blaine's room to be furnished much like the rest of the house, with only the finest and most expensive things. Instead, the large space had boring white walls, bland, dark blue carpet, a double bed with a white comforter, a dresser, a desk with a laptop, and a bookshelf overflowing with books and DVDs. The only item in the room that hinted at the owner's wealth was a 60 inch flat screen TV, with a DVD player and a Playstation hooked up to it.

Puck glanced through the bookshelf and the dresser drawers, the nightstand, and the desk drawers getting frustrated when he found nothing of any significance. He flipped open the laptop, but had no luck in figuring out Blaine's password, so he couldn't gain access into it, either. He spied a door on the other side of the room, and opened it up to find a private bathroom. Going through the cupboards, he finally found something worthwhile. Lined up on the bottom were plenty of pill bottles. He felt defeated at first when he saw they all said Blaine Anderson in bold print, meaning they were actually prescribed to him legally, but then he started to read the contents. Xanax, Ambien, Lexapro, Abilify, Prozac, Zoloft and a few more various types of anxiety and anti-depression medications that were not normally prescribed together. He noticed most of the conflicting medications held a different doctor's name as the prescriber. He raised his eyebrows thoughtfully, and opened the next cupboard. Boring. It merely consisted of necessities, toothbrush and toothpaste, deodorant, cologne, razor and plenty of extra razor blades. He opened the third one and got even more curious as to what was really going on in the life of Blaine Anderson. Again, there were an excessive amount of pill bottles, all prescribed to him. Only these were all pain medications. And not just Vicodin and Percocet, though there were plenty of both of them. There were some seriously dangerous opiates in there. Oxy 80s, Opana 40s, Morphine, Fentanyl patches. The list went on and on.

"What the actual fuck, Anderson?" Puck muttered, as he helped himself to some of the Vicodin and Percocet. He left the bathroom and was about to leave the room when he ran smack into Blaine.

Puck cursed loudly, and for a minute Blaine's perfectly constructed facial features fell off, giving way to a look of surprise, and slight panic.

"What the hell are you doing in my room?" He finally asked, trying to compose himself.

Noah smirked. "Just picking up your Algebra book, like you asked. But now that you're here, I guess I don't need to, so I'll just be going." Grinning wickedly, Noah stepped around Blaine, turning around to get in a final shot before leaving. "Oh by the way, I really like what you've done with the place. Especially the extensive decorating in the medicine cabinet."


	3. Planning

Blaine watched Puck stroll out of his house before muttering a string of curses under his breath and making a break for his bathroom. He felt slightly relieved to see that all the bottles seemed to be there, and none of them really seemed to be missing any, aside from the Vicodin and Percocet which looked suspiciously low.

"Fuck!" He swore louder, as he grabbed a Xanax from one side and an Oxy from the other. He swallowed them both whole, realizing just a little bit too late that with an entire Oxy 80 in his system it might be hard to stay awake long enough to do his homework. Shrugging it off and realizing his tolerance was probably high enough to withstand it just fine he started another search through his room. Nothing seemed out of place, and he knew for a fact Puck would not have been smart enough or technologically advanced enough to hack into his computer.

Pulling open the drawer in his desk, he removed the false bottom and sighed with relief with he saw nothing had been messed with.

_All right, Blaine. Deep breath. So he saw the pills. They're all legally prescribed to you. But that's probably all he found out about. There's no way he figured out anything else, he's not that smart, and he wouldn't have found any clues either._ Blaine laughed humorlessly to himself. _Anyway, the pills are definitely not the problem in my life._

He heard heavy footsteps thudding up the stairs, and quickly put everything back and pulled out his textbooks, pretending to be deep in concentration on schoolwork.

"Blaine!" His father walked in, a menacing look on his face. "Since when are your friends allowed at my house with you, much less without you?"

"Sorry, sir. He wasn't actually a friend, he-", Blaine was cut off before he began.

"I don't really give a shit, Blaine. Don't let it happen again." With that, his father turned on his heel, slamming Blaine's bedroom door shut behind him. Blaine let out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and reached for his phone.

* * *

><p><em>So he's a pill head. Who is apparently bat shit fuckin' crazy as well, judging by all those happy pills.<em> Puck thought as he sped down the highway, headed back towards Lima. He glanced at his phone on the passenger seat, where he'd mistakenly left it, to see that he had a new text message. Sure enough, about a minute after he'd gotten out of his car, a warning text from Santana had come through. There were a couple missed calls from her as well.

Puck picked up his phone, calling Santana back.

"What the fuck? You ask me to be your lookout then ignore me when I do my job?" Santana answered bitterly.

"Hi, nice to talk to you too, San. Oh, me? I've been good. How about you? Really? Glad to hear it."

"Shut the fuck up, you aren't anywhere near as cute and funny as you seem to think you are. Did you get out in time?" Santana questioned.

"Not exactly, but it worked out fine, I think," Puck responded lightly.

"Please don't think, remember what happened last time you tried that? Brittany still has nightmares about it. What does 'not exactly' mean, anyway?"

"Not getting into this over the phone. Meet you at your place for a drink and a fuck and I'll tell you about it then," Puck hung up, not giving her a chance to accept or decline, since he knew she'd be there for the promise of his cock either way.

* * *

><p>"Hey, it's me. Just wanted to let you know I won't be over tonight, I'm going stay at my house instead, but thanks for the offer," Blaine left a clipped message on his friend's voicemail and turned back to his text book, annoyed that the words seemed to be swimming in front of his eyes. His father may not have been sober, exactly, but he was at least apparently not in the mood to go a few rounds tonight. And none of his drinking buddies were over either, which meant Blaine had just fucked up the chance at a quiet, peaceful night in his own home, because he could feel how heavy his eyelids were getting.<p>

Realizing it was completely pointless to continue trying to work, Blaine figured he could get the majority of work for his earlier classes done before school in the morning, and worry about his afternoon classes during lunch and study hall. He lay down on his bed, stretching out slowly, and wincing ever so slightly. He gingerly put his arms behind his head, groaning softly as he laid his head down on a particularly sore spot on his left wrist. As his eyes began to flutter closed, he saw dark red seeping through several spots on his shirt and knew he should get up and change his bandages, but instead he let his mind succumb to the foggy haze of an opiate induced dreamland.

* * *

><p>"Yeah, Puck, he's a cocky, rich, spoiled little hobbit, I get that, but I still don't see why you're so hell bent on 'exposing him for the fraud he is'", Santana used air quotes around the last of the sentence. Honestly, she was sick to death of listening to Puck whine about Blaine. As far as she could tell, he used Daddy's money and prestige to support a serious pill addiction, but she still didn't get why that was such a big deal. Or why Puck had such a hard on for destroying him.<p>

"He's a creep and he's hiding more than pills and I know it. He spends far too much time with Kurt and I don't want Kurt getting messed up in whatever sick situation Blaine is in. And you can't tell me you haven't noticed how Kurt fawns and moons over Blaine whenever he's around. He's going to get his heart handed back to him in a hundred pieces when Blaine pulls him in."

"I thought Blaine was straight? So, won't it be Kurt's own godamned fault when his hearts gets shattered? He should have learned by now to stop crushing on straight guys," Santana pointed out, picking at a hangnail, already bored with the conversation. "And since when do you give two shits about Kurt's feelings, anyway?" She couldn't help but add the last part in her signature snarky tone.

Puck shot Santana a murderous glare, not amused with what she was insinuating. Because it was completely false. Puck liked pussy way too much to ever even consider being gay. Maybe it was because Kurt was now Finn's stepbrother, maybe he just kinda decided the kid wasn't half bad, but he felt like Kurt needed protecting. He knew Kurt could take care of himself, he'd seen it first hand on multiple occasions, but when it came to Blaine Kurt seemed blind. And unfortunately, so did Finn. So Puck couldn't expect Finn to have Kurt's back and watch out for him this time. So the job fell to Puck. And while Puck knew he came across as not giving a shit about anything, when it came down to a job he expected himself to fulfill, he took it very, very seriously.

* * *

><p>Late that night, Will paced the living room to his small apartment, toying with the idea of calling Emma and asking her advice on things. Ever since his brief run in with Kurt and Blaine in the parking lot, Will hadn't been able to shake the bad feeling creeping up his spine. Nothing Blaine had said or did necessarily hinted at anything wrong, but Will still sensed something was majorly off. There had seemed to be absolutely no light, no life in the boys eyes. Instead they just looked blank and cold. Like he'd finally decided to stop fighting whatever battles he was fighting.<p>

That alone was enough to cause a crease of worry on will's forehead. The few times he'd met Blaine he'd always gotten the impression that he was a strong kid. He seemed so sure of himself, so confident, almost _too_ confident. He always had a courteous manner about him, and an infectious grin was always lurking somewhere on his face. He'd seen none of that tonight. His gracious behavior had seemed forced, fake and almost resentful. And there wasn't even the slightest ghost of a smile anywhere on his features.

He wondered if he should mention anything to Kurt at the next Glee club, or if he should bother Emma with another one of his kid's problems. Hell, this one wasn't even his kids, it was one of his kid's friends. Will also speculated how he could stealthily dig into Blaine's situation to look for some possible answers without coming across as some creepy pedophile preying on a seventeen year old high school kid.

He tried to figure out if he'd ever seen any of the other Glee kids conversing with Blaine in any sort of friendly way, but besides Kurt and Finn he was pretty sure he hadn't. He couldn't ask Finn to talk to Blaine, he knew Finn would have only the best intentions, but he wouldn't go about it the right way, and he'd most likely end up accidentally offending Blaine, or, if things were as bad for Blaine as Will feared, he'd end up sending Blaine running, never to be heard from by a student at McKinley again, including Kurt. Will had pretty much deduced that he shouldn't ask Kurt, because Kurt would assume that Will was attacking Blaine and accusing him of something and jump to his defense and end up even more blind than he already was when it came to the Dalton boy. He ran through all of the kids silently. Puck and Santana would just be too blunt and probably rude to Blaine; Quinn and Rachel were both entirely too self involved to be worried about someone else's problems; Artie, Tina and Mercedes were all possibilities, but it just didn't sound like it would work to him; Brittany, well, it'd be the same as asking Finn to do it, only a thousand times worse; Sam and Mike…well. Actually, Sam or Mike might work.

Feeling like he had at least a small plan forming in his mind, Will finally quit pacing and went into his bedroom to see if he could salvage a few hours of sleep before he had to be up in the morning. Hopefully, with a couple hours of shut eye, he could wake up refreshed, and be able to think of a more definite, detailed plan.


	4. Hell

_A/N : So, to those of you who have never struggled with an addiction to pain pills or used them or had any experience with them (which for your sakes I hope is the majority of you. If it isn't and you are struggling, please contact someone for help, a friend, a family member, a NA meeting, a drug addiction hotline, or even contact me, as I have been there for the past sixteen years and I understand how helpless it can make you feel.) Anyways, I digress. The beginning of this may confuse those of you who don't understand opiates. Sometime, popping an excessive amount can make you sleepy and tired, and make it impossible to keep your eyes open, see Blaine in the last chapter. Other times, especially with Vicodin, Percocet, Oxy and Opana, it can cause you to feel very energetic, dedicated, focused and have an urge to clean and be very, very productive. So don't be confused at the drastic difference between how the Oxy affected Blaine last chapter and the Opana affected him this is not a mistake on my part, sadly it is experience and knowledge._

_Also, this was originally supposed to be two chapters, but I was on a roll, so enjoy an abnormally (for me) long chapter._

* * *

><p>Blaine pried his eyes open early the next morning and let out a groan immediately. Obnoxiously bright sunlight streamed through his windows, his entire body felt like he'd been hit by a Mack truck, and the first thought on his mind was homework. Not a good start to what was about to be a very bad day. Glancing at his phone he saw he still had fifteen minutes until his alarm went off. He was prepared to turn over and sleep until he was forced out of bed by that annoying high pitched beep, but instead the front door to his room was opened and something hard and heavy was wailed right at him, catching him in his shoulder, causing him to yelp in surprise and sit up, suddenly wide awake. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and saw the form of his irate father glaring at him from the door frame.<p>

"Get the fuck out of bed you lazy, worthless brat." The door was slammed closed, and Blaine rubbed his shoulder, cringing in pain. Next to him on the bed lay a frying pan, which Blaine took to mean his father wanted breakfast before he left for the office, and God fuckin' forbid he made it for himself.

He climbed out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, still bleary eyed. He grabbed a handful of pills from both sides, swallowing them with water from the tap, and then grabbed out an Opana, crushing it up and snorting close to a quarter of it straight into his system.

He showered as quickly as possible, ignoring his reflection in the mirror, not needing to see the array of bruises, scar, and cuts over every part of his body that clothes covered up. His father may be an abusive asshole but he didn't make it to the top of the business world by being a dumb ass, that was for damn sure. He never hit Blaine anywhere where it would show. By the time he was dried off, bandaged up and dressed, a half an hour had passed, and he could hear his father stomping around downstairs impatiently. He was already feeling better, much better, both physically and mentally thanks to the pills, so he hurried downstairs to start cooking before he got hit again.

He made his father's breakfast, left it on the table for him, and swiftly grabbed his bag and left the house before he had to see that prick again. He arrived at Dalton a good forty five minutes before classes started, so he settled in the cafeteria and got a start on his homework for his morning classes, the drugs pumping through his system giving him massive amounts of concentration and dedication to the task at hand.

* * *

><p>Will found Sam before first period the next morning, and quickly zeroed in on him. "Sam, could I see you at your earliest convenience today?"<p>

Sam gave him a confused look, and his mind jumped to where every teenager's mind first went when he was asked by a teacher to have a word. "Uh, sure, Mr. Schuester. Did I do something wrong?"

"Oh, no, not at all. I just needed to talk to you about something ," Will reassured Sam before he went to seek out Emma before classes started.

"Knock, knock," He grinned leaning into her open office. Startled slightly, Emma looked up from her paperwork and gave a small smile at her welcome visitor.

"Will. What brings you by my office so early in the morning?"

"I think there may be a problem, but I'm not positive, and it doesn't even concern me."

"Well that's very, um, vague and confusing," Emma gently prodded him to continue.

"Have you ever met Kurt's friend, Blaine Anderson?" Emma shook her head, so Will continued. "He goes to Dalton, over in Westerville, he's in their show choir, and he's a very talented, polite, and nice kid."

"Okay," Emma commented, even more confused. "I'm sorry, Will, I just don't understand the problem."

"Well, when I saw him and Kurt yesterday, he just seemed….different. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I have a bad feeling about it. And I don't know what to do. The best plan I've been able to come up with is asking Sam to see if he can try to become friendly with Blaine and see what he can find out."

"If Blaine is Kurt's friend, why wouldn't you talk to Kurt about this?" Emma questioned.

Will sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "Because I know Kurt has a tendency to overreact and I needed someone who I thought could be friendly, not self involved, and uh, well, deductive enough to look into the boy's life."

"Is that really fair to Sam, though? To ask him to get involved in something when you have no idea what, if any, the situation is?"

Will thought about it for a minute and realized Emma was right. "No. It's not. All right. Thanks Emma." He stood up to leave, but Emma offered up a little bit of help before he took off.

"If it'll make you feel better, next time Blaine's here, let me know, and I'll see if I can manage to run into him and Kurt and tell you my thoughts on things. But I also think that maybe you underestimate Kurt. Yes he is dramatic, but with drama comes passion, and Kurt is passionate about his friends and their well being, Will. You know that. So maybe you should reconsider talking to Kurt."

"Thanks, Emma," Will gave her a half hearted smile and left.

* * *

><p>Blaine flushed the toilet and wiped his mouth, swigging down some mouth wash and gurgling it around. He spit into the sink, and knew he'd done just a little too much Opana if he was puking. That didn't deter him from snorting some more off the counter and swallowing a few pills down as well just an hour later while everyone was in their afternoon classes.<p>

He got through the rest of school easily and was in good spirits until he realized Kurt had Glee club tonight, and he'd made no other plans so he was going to have to go home until he got a hold of some people on back up for a place to crash. He knew staying at his house tonight was not an option. If his father was that angry first thing in the morning, that meant he would have been swigging down whiskey all day long and by the time he got home from the office he'd be drunk and even angrier, which would make this morning seem like a walk in the park.

By six o'clock, when he still hadn't found alternate housing for the night, he was beginning to panic. His father would walk through that door at any minute, and now it looked like Blaine's only hope was that his father would at least not have friends over tonight. His father, he could handle that. He'd grown pretty numb emotionally and physically, seeing as he'd been dealing with his father's temper since he landed in the hospital with a broken leg and arm from 'tumbling down the stairs' when he was two. Or maybe the drugs just worked really well. But his father's friends? The shit that had started with two of them, Bruce and Jimmy, just a few years ago? No. That he couldn't handle. Every time it happened it left him feeling even more broken inside. And Blaine didn't really think there was a whole lot of breaking left on his insides before he crumbled into a mess and just gave into the temptation of the gun in the false bottom drawer of his desk.

He still wasn't sure who he'd been planning on using the gun on when he got it three years ago. After the first night where Jimmy and Bruce had been over, even more drunk than his father, and wanted to join in the fun, only taking it to a new, higher level of pain and humiliation for Blaine, he'd gone out and bought a gun from one of his friend's friends. He didn't know if he'd been planning to kill his father, his father's friends, himself, or all of the above when he'd gotten it. And he didn't know why he couldn't bring himself to get rid of it now. Maybe it was that slight bit of protection and power he felt when he held the smooth metal in his hands. Maybe it was the fact that he knew all he had to do was click off the safety to regain control of his life. Maybe it was that he still wasn't sure he had a life worth living. But to Blaine, that gun was like a shiny, hard, smooth security blanket that he just couldn't bring himself to give up.

From downstairs he heard the sound of a door opening and more than one set of footsteps entering into his home sweet hell.

* * *

><p>After Glee, Sam hesitantly approached Will. "You, uh, wanted to see me sir?" He still wasn't convinced he wasn't in trouble for some unknown offense.<p>

"Oh, yeah, I did say that, huh? I just wanted to check in, make sure everything was still going okay? You were enjoying school here, and Glee and football?" Will was flying by the seat of his pants, making up a reason he'd needed to see Sam since he'd decided to take Emma's advice after all.

"Um, yeah. It's fine. Everything's great," Sam gave Will a confused look. "So that was it?" The relief was apparent all over his face.

"Yup. I also wanted to remind you if you or your family needs anything at all, just to let me or Emma know, all right?" Will added hurriedly.

"Okay. Thanks Mr. Schuester. I appreciate it," With one last look over his shoulder, wondering at his Glee coach's odd behavior, Sam left the room, passing by Kurt who was coming back in.

"Kurt!" Will said surprised to see him back, but relieved he wouldn't have to chase him down to talk to him. "Forget something?"

"No, I just wanted to ask you something, actually," Kurt mumbled. Will's ears perked up, it wasn't like Kurt to mumble.

"Sure, Kurt. Ask away. I may just have an answer for you."

"Did you, um, well, I mean I know you only saw him for a split second and you don't know him, but," Kurt fidgeted, looking anywhere but at Will, acting very weird and very un-Kurt like. "Did you notice Blaine acting weird yesterday?" He finally spit out.

Will couldn't stop the look of surprise he was sure flashed across his face at first. Perhaps this would make this easier though, since apparently Kurt wasn't as blind as he'd originally suspected. "Actually, yes," He answered honestly. "I was going to ask you if everything was okay with him."

"I don't," Kurt faltered, seeming to not want to say what was on his mind for once, before decidedly squaring his shoulders and looking his Glee coach in the eyes. "I don't know if everything's okay with him or not. We've been friends for a few months now, but I feel like I don't really have any clue who he is. He comes to my house, but I've never been to his, he knows what goes on in my life, but I have no clue what goes on in his. How can you be friends with someone for a few months and not know a single thing about their life, really? I only know the superficial things about him. He never talks about his family, or his life, or anything." Kurt finally burst out.

"Not everyone is as open as you are, Kurt. But I do have to ask, do you, ah, suspect something not good is going on in his life and that's why you're so worked up about this? Because I think you're more worried than angry or bothered," Will pointed out.

"I am," Kurt admitted. "It's just, I don't know what it is. I can't even begin to speculate what it is, but I just know something bad is going on and it seems to be getting worse lately. I'm scared for him, Mr. Schuester."

"Well, I'll tell you what. Why don't you see if you can set up a time for the three of us to meet here, maybe after school tomorrow? And I'll help you try and talk to him. We'll see if we can pull the truth from him.

Kurt looked visibly relieved, and gave Will a genuine smile. "Thanks, Mr. Schuester. That would be great. I'll let you know tomorrow morning what he says."

* * *

><p>Blaine wondered how much farther he had to go until he got to Kurt's. His best guess was at least another ten miles or so, which would put him at the Hummel-Hudson household at approximately one or two AM, seeing as it was already ten o'clock at night. But he knew he had no other choice. He didn't know anyone else in Lima well enough to show up on their doorstep asking for a place to crash, and he didn't know where anyone else lived, either. He wasn't sure how his luck was bad enough that in his rush to get out of his house after that episode he'd managed to leave his phone at home for the first time in his young life. And of course, that would also be the first night in his fuckin' life that his car had ever broken down on him. Stranding him in fuckin' Lima, with very few options.<p>

He could barely walk, he was tired and sore, and fighting what might very well be just a slight overdose on painkillers. Plus the damn images in his head that just wouldn't leave. The godamn voices, with their sadistic laughter and cruel words, meant for nothing but pain and humiliation. Combining the memories and too much Opana, he realized he'd have to add in how much he was stopping to puke up stomach acid, since nothing was left in his system after hours of throwing his guts up. Not to mention he would also have to factor in how slow moving he was, thanks to what felt like several broken ribs, a possibly fractured ankle, multiple wounds on his torso and arms that wouldn't quit bleeding, and a general pain and ache over every part of his body.. He knew two AM was being optimistic. _More like unrealistic_, he laughed bitterly to himself.

* * *

><p>Will was almost home when he saw a dark figure lurching down the street. He slowed down to see if they needed help, since they looked drunk or hurt, or maybe both, and it took him a minute to realize who he was looking at. The boy on the side of the road next to him had a haunted look on his face, causing him to look much older than Will knew he really was. And Will had never seen him like this. Every time he'd seen Blaine Anderson he'd been perfectly coifed, in his Dalton Academy uniform with gelled up hair.<p>

But the boy standing on the side of the road, fighting off a wave of nausea, was anything but well groomed. He had on a pair of jeans, a dark red shirt, and a black leather jacket that all looked a little beaten up, and his hair was in a state of disarray, with dark curls going everywhere.

Will immediately pulled his car over and stepped out, rushing up to the boy. "Blaine?"

Blaine looked up, a wild, panicked look in his eyes that he quickly tried to replace when he saw who it was. "M-Mr. Schuester. Hi," He muttered, looking for a way to leave.

"Are you all right, son?" Will asked cautiously, reaching a hand out towards the boy's shoulder.

Blaine recoiled as if he'd been slapped, jumping back, the panicked look in his eyes back with a vengeance. "Don't touch me! And don't call me son, I ain't your fuckin' son!"

The warning bells in Will's head grew even louder and more frantic. He'd never heard Blaine swear or say anything that wasn't completely, almost frustratingly polite.

Blaine immediately realized his mistake. He ran a shaky hand through his disheveled hair and made a vain attempt to straighten out his clothes and compose himself.

Will watched silently as the boy in front of him made a desperate effort to get his mask back on.

"Blaine?" Will began tentatively, feeling a pang in his chest when he noticed how Blaine took an unconscious step backward for every move toward him Will made. He stopped and took his own step backward, giving the boy all the distance he wanted and holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Can I at least ask what you're doing walking around Lima at ten o'clock at night?"

"No," Blaine stated simply, before catching his mistake, and cursing himself for losing his calm again. "I mean yes. I was headed home from Kurt's and my car broke down. I left my phone at home, so I was walking back to Kurt's to use his phone to call AAA."

"That black Benz I passed a couple miles back was yours then?"

"Yes sir."

"Okay. Well, it was facing towards Kurt's house, not away from it," Will pointed out.

"Yeah, I know I told you, I left my phone at his house and was going back to get it," Blaine retorted, trying to keep his temper contained. That was one of his favorite ways he was so drastically different from his father. The way he could always keep his calm. He never lost his temper, never let other see when he was angry, never raised his voice or yelled or hit anyone. He'd be damned if he'd start acting like that piece of shit after this past episode.

"No, you said you left your phone at home," Will gently reminded him, knowing Blaine was spitting out lie after lie to him to cover something up. Will just wanted, no _needed_, to know what it was that this teenager was so desperate to keep to himself. The fact that he seemed to be on something and in a great deal of pain did not help Will's growing concern for him.

"I misspoke. I meant I left it at _Kurt's_ home. Not my own," Blaine made an effort to give Will a confident, reassuring smile, but it faltered as a flashback hit him, and he found himself slowly backing even farther away from the older man he barely knew. "It was nice to see you Mr Schuester. Have a good night," And with that Blaine turned and bolted, only to have the images piercing his brain and his physical state cause him to fall to his knees after just a few feet. Clutching his head in his hands as images swept over him and his entire body throbbed, Blaine began frantically searching his pockets for a bottle of pills. Any pills. Anything to take away the pain. To take away the images. Instead of a bottle of pills, his hand closed around d the gun he'd forgotten he'd shoved in his pocket before leaving that night.

Suddenly, Blaine felt like all his problems were solved. Shaking with pent up emotion, he yanked the gun out of his pocket, clicking the safety off, and putting the cold, bitter barrel of the gun into his mouth. Squeezing his eyes shut, he counted to three before begining to squeeze the trigger.


	5. Understanding

Will watched in shock as Blaine attempted to run away, not getting very far before he dropped to his knees. _Shit!_ Will thought as he caught up to the boy who hadn't even noticed him yet, since he was far too busy digging in his pockets frantically. He saw Blaine pull something out finally and saw a glint of silver in the moonlight, realizing almost instantaneously what it was. Before Will could stop him, Blaine had the gun in his mouth and his finger was pulling down on the trigger.

"Blaine!" Will shouted, lunging forward, and knocking the gun away just in time, causing a deafening gunshot to pierce the silent night, but thankfully not the boy's brain. It barely missed him, though and if he were being honest, Will was scared to death, having no idea what to do or say. Blaine still had the gun gripped tightly in his hand.

He turned his wild eyes on Will, looking so utterly lost and confused that Will made the mistake of reaching for the gun, thinking he could get it out of the boy's hand with ease. That was not the case, though. Blaine stumbled backwards, and turned the gun on Will. "Leave me alone! Get the fuck out of here!" He hollered.

"I can't do that. Blaine. Just put the gun down and let's talk about this. You look like you need to be at a hospital," Will said gently.

"I said no! What is so godamned hard for people to understand about that fuckin' word?" His voice broke on the last sentence, and the gun wavered in his hand. Will knew this might be his only shot, and took a step towards the unstable teen, but before he could reach them, they were suddenly illuminated by a set of headlights, and Will vaguely heard the sound of tires screeching, doors slamming and voices shouting.

Puck and Santana came running up, stopping dead in their tracks when they saw who it was with the gun, and who it was that the gun was turned on.

"See, I told you," Puck hissed at Santana, satisfied.

"So not the time, Puckerman," Santana hissed back.

"Stay right where you are," Will called to his Glee kids, before turning back to Blaine, and slowly moving towards him again, until he was directly in front of him. "Blaine," He said in a soft, kind voice. "You aren't going to shoot me. Whoever you're so mad at, it isn't me, and you aren't cruel enough to kill me. Give me the gun. Please," He pleaded, holding his hand out.

Blaine wavered before finally holding the gun out to Will, but before Will could grab it, Blaine crumpled to the ground, unconscious, succumbing to the overbearing pain he was feeling everywhere.

"What the fuck, Mr. Schuester?" Puck asked, suddenly doubting his take on the situation.

Will ignored him though, and instead dropped down next to Blaine. Santana and Puck joined them on the ground, as Will barked at them to call 911. Santana pulled her cell phone out, and got on it, as Will checked Blaine's pulse, feeling it beating erratically underneath his fingertips.

"Mr. Schuester?" Puck asked, his voice uncertain as for the first time he took in the appearance of the other boy, lying on the ground next to him.

"I don't know Puck. He was in this shape when I found him. His car broke down and he was headed to Kurt's as best I can tell," Will told Puck, wondering what exactly he should do now. _Kurt_, he suddenly thought. _I should call Kurt. Kurt will most likely know a way to get a hold of his parents and have them meet us at the hospital._ Relieved that he finally had a plan, Will was about to ask Puck to call Kurt, when Blaine's eyes snapped open, and he sat up best he could, scrambling backwards away from the Glee coach for the umpteenth time that night.

"Blaine," Will began, knowing enough by now not to approach him. "Blaine, there's an ambulance on the way. Where all are you hurt? And what happened? Please, I need to know.

Blaine gave a short bark of laughter and shook his head vehemently. "You don't need to know shit, other than I'm going home.

"I can't let you go home, Blaine. You're seriously injured. And your car's broke down anyway, remember?"

"Then I'll walk," Blaine spat at him, and stood up painstakingly, trying his best to look like it wasn't hurting him as he got to his feet unsteadily.

"Blaine, dude, c'mon. You're shitting me right? You can't walk that far, you can barely even stand," Puck interceded.

Blaine shot him a look of pure hatred, and mumbled out an "I'll manage." He began to slowly limp in the opposite direction, having no idea if that was actually the way his house was or not. His mind was a jumbled mess and he wasn't even positive he could have told someone his last name right then.

"At least let me call your parent's to come get you and take you to a hospital," Will offered.

Blaine gave that same, humorless and slightly maniacal laughter again. "My mom's dead. So good luck diggin' up her gave. And if you call my father I swear to God I will rip you limb from limb."

Will had a sinking feeling in his gut he was beginning to understand at least a little bit of what was going on with the boy. By the hard look on Puck's face, he'd come to the same conclusion.

"And I _can't_ go to the hospital. I _won't_," Blaine added in a voice so hardened by the harsh realities of the world that Will felt his heart break.

The last time Blaine had been to the hospital, he'd made the mistake of allowing one of his many nannies to take him when he was seven and had ended up with some broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder after an altercation with his father. After they'd gotten home from the hospital, and his father had almost had his reputation tarnished by a five hour investigation from the police as to how a seven year old had ended up in that state, Blaine had wished for the comfort of only some cracked ribs and a fucked up shoulder. He knew that going to the hospital could very well be the last thing he ever did.

That was how Blaine had gotten addicted to painkillers in the first place. He'd end up beaten, bruised, and in loads of pain after a night with his father, and then he'd get some doctor who wouldn't question him to write and fax him prescriptions without examining him. Money talked, that was for sure. It hadn't taken him long to realize that the pills also made inside his head feel better, and he begun to start taking them constantly, whether he was hurt or not. Of course, Blaine couldn't remember the last time something on him wasn't bruised, broken, bloodied, or burned.

Puck turned to Will, immediately understanding why Blaine was so adamant about not going to the hospital. "It'll probably be worse if he goes to the hospital," He explained in a low voice, hoping him and his teacher were on the same page as to where Blaine's injuries had come from. "But I agree, he can't go home. He's not going to go with you or listen to you, you're an adult, and in his eyes, they are enemy number one right now. He might go with me, though. He can crash at my house, my mom's working the night shift and my father hasn't been home since he left for work four years ago. Santana's a candy striper, so maybe she can get him to let her at least look over him, and we can figure out where to go from there after everyone gets a good night's sleep."

Will looked at Puck flabbergasted for a minute. He had never taken Puck to be the insightful, caring type, and he'd kind of thought Puck hated Blaine, though he'd never figured out why. "All right," Will agreed reluctantly. "You're probably right. You still have my phone number?" Puck nodded, so Will continued. "Use it. Call me first thing in the morning. And text me when you get a minute so I have yours. Better tell Santana to cancel that ambulance."

* * *

><p>By the time they had convinced the 911 operator that the girl who'd called them had been drinking and was confused, and Puck had convinced Will it would be best if he left while he tried to talk Blaine into spending the night at his house, it was nearing eleven o'clock. With a heavy sigh, Puck jogged after the excruciatingly slow moving figure that was fading into the distance.<p>

"Blaine! Hey, man! Wait up!" He called, making the mistake of putting a hand on Blaine's shoulder when he reached him.

With surprising agility, Blaine whirled around, socking Puck right in the face the moment he felt his hand on him.

"Ow. But, all right, yeah, I had that coming," Puck grinned, trying to make light.

"Just leave me alone. Please. Just leave me be," Blaine begged.

"I wish I could, bro, but seriously? There's no fucking way you can walk all the way to Westerville tonight. You barely made it fifty feet in fifteen minutes. Just let me drive you back to my house. You can crash on my bed, I'll crash on the sofa, and then I'll take you home in the morning," Puck offered.

"No offense, Puck, but no way would I get in a car with you, much less stay a night at your house. I'd rather not have sleepovers with a guy who has been pretty vocal about hating my guts."

"Well, I don't hate you anymore. I think, I think I actually understand you more now. You're dad did that to you, didn't he? My dad used to beat the shit out of me and my mom before he dipped. I know that look, I know those signs. I know why you can't go to a hospital, and I know for damn sure that the last place you want to go right now is back into that asshole's house," Puck told him.

"Oh, good. It's gonna be a fully fledged sleepover with secret sharing and everything."

"Tell you what, man. If you come with me without any more resistance, we can even braid each other's hair," Puck joked, finally eliciting a smile from Blaine. It may not have reached his eyes, and it may not have held any joy behind it, but Blaine still gave in and nodded his consent.

Puck's instinct was to put an arm around his shoulder and help him back to his car, but he knew that Blaine would probably freak if he touched him, so instead he rushed back to his car and drove it over to where Blaine was. Blaine climbed in the backseat, trying not to let it show how hard such an easy task was for him right then, and Santana jumped in the front, shooting worried glances toward the back seat the whole time. For once, both Puck and Santana were eerily quiet and neither of them had a sarcastic or spiteful comment to offer up.


	6. Injuries

Puck pulled into the driveway of the rundown house that he lived in with his mom, and shut the engine off. He and Santana exchanged an uneasy look, because Blaine had passed out again in the back of the car, and neither relished the idea of waking him up.

Puck texted Will that they'd gotten Blaine to his house okay, and then pocketed his phone as he stepped out of the vehicle. Santana took her cue from Puck, getting out as well, and walked around to his side of the car. "Should we wake him, or…?" Santana trailed off, an uncharacteristic note of uncertainty in her voice.

"I'm awake, and perfectly capable of getting out of car and into a house all by my lonesome," Blaine's voice caused them both to jump backwards. "Just go in. I'll join you in a few minutes."

Santana started to argue about leaving him alone outside, but Puck shook his head at her, telling Blaine, "All right. I'll leave the door open, just holler if you need help." He took hold of Santana's arm and dragged her inside behind him.

"Puck-," She began.

"Santana, stop. If he wants a few minutes to compose himself, give that to him, okay? If he hasn't come in soon, I'll go back out." Puck's voice left no room for argument.

* * *

><p>Blaine gave a small groan as he tried unsuccessfully to shift in the back seat. He couldn't decide which one of his actions he was more pissed about right now. Losing his cool for long enough, and at a delicate enough time, that not just one, but three people saw it and realized at least a fraction of what was going on; losing his cool and yelling at Will and Puck; or losing his cool and punching Puck. The last one made him sick to his stomach all over again, so he guessed he had his answer.<p>

His father, the one man he always swore he would be nothing like, and yet now he was following in his footsteps and resorting to violence when someone pissed him off. Wonderful.

_A plan,_ Blaine thought. _That's what I need. _Blaine was obviously a big fan of plans. He hated not knowing what was going to happen next, he liked to have everything mapped out and definite. The one time he had forgotten to make a plan for the night in the past couple years and look what had happened as a result. Obviously, his first course of action had to be getting home. He'd keep his word and stay at Puck's tonight, but if Puck tried to refuse taking him home in the morning, he'd walk, no matter how long it took him. Next he should probably contact Kurt, and make up some sort of excuse as to why they couldn't be friends anymore. Because after tonight, there was no way in hell Blaine ever wanted to see Mr. Schuester, Puck, or Santana ever again, and that would be impossible to do if he and Kurt remained close.

Then he would need to contact Dalton. He'd have one of the many doctors who were willing to lie, cheat and steal for him write a doctor's note about him having mono or some other sickness that would keep him out of school for a couple of weeks. He'd also have them fax him some more scripts, because his supply was running dangerously low and he knew he wouldn't make it through the next week without massive quantities of drugs in his system at all times. After that he'd probably try to get in contact with Wes or David or some other classmate and see if they could drop his assignments off at his house, maybe leave them in his mailbox or something, because, cough cough, he was contagious. And he may be beat the fuck up but he was not about to get behind in his school work at such a crucial time in his academic career and risk messing up his chances at getting into an Ivy League somewhere and getting away from this life once and for all.

A slight rap at the car window cause Blaine to startle out of his thoughts. Puck's face was peering in, and he slowly eased open the door.

"Dude, my bed may not be near as fancy as yours, but I'm sure it's a hell of a lot more comfortable than the backseat of this four banger," Puck said, kicking the tire on his beat up Toyota Camry ruefully.

Blaine nodded, and began the agonizing process of attempting to climb out of the backseat, and get into Puck's house with no help from the man himself.

Puck watched helplessly, wanting so bad to just be able to throw an arm around him and escort him in the house, but he knew Blaine wouldn't take kindly to that. He was way too independent for his own good.

Blaine collapsed on the couch, unable to bring himself to go any further for the time being, and he gratefully accepted the glass of water Santana held out to him with a mumble of thanks. He drank most of it down, not even bothering to hide it when he pulled out some pills to drink with it.

"Blaine?" Santana asked, kneeling down in front of him, noting wryly that this was probably the first time she'd ever been in Puck's house on her knees and not in a sexual situation. "Honey, can I take a look under your shirt and see if there's anything I can do?"

"No, I'm fine. Just let me sleep and I'll be out of you guy's hair come morning," Blaine protested weakly.

"Sorry dude, I can't have you bleeding over my sheets. Just let her do her thing then I'll show you where my room is so you can pass out," Puck stated firmly.

In the end, the most Santana and Puck could get Blaine to do was lift up his T-shirt. He adamantly refused to take it completely off, and he wouldn't take off the jacket either. Neither of them wanted to push him past his comfort zone though, so they took what they could get.

"Jesus," Santana breathed softly, studying the torso of the guy in front of her. She saw his hands tremble at the hem of his shirt, itching to bring it back down and snapped into business mode, somehow knowing that was what Blaine needed to feel comfortable at that moment in time. "All right. If it won't hurt too much, lay down on your back. We'll take care of the front first then the back. Just raise your shirt up to your neck…if that's okay," She added on second thought.

Blaine eyed her warily, but did as asked. Puck came in the room with all the items Santana had said she'd need, and he tried not to let his shock and repulsion at Blaine's shape show on his face.

Santana took the wet washcloth and began to gently wipe the dried blood off his chest, feeling guilty every time he winced in pain. She'd been hoping it would look less horrific with the blood wiped away, but that wasn't the case. If possible, it looked even more appalling. His chest was an array of angry bruises, cuts, and scratches, some in various stages of healing, and others fresh. And beyond those she could see plenty of older, jagged scars littering his body. A few that looked so thick and contrastingly white against his tanned skin that she had to wonder if they were stab wounds. She pressed gently on his ribcage, and got her answer of whether or not some of them were cracked when he gave a moan and jerked violently. "Sorry," She muttered.

She knew she should get to work fast, because his abdomen was already becoming covered in blood again as the various wounds seeped fresh blood out from some of the deeper, more menacing injuries on him. It took nearly an hour for her to finally get his entire front cleaned, disinfected and bandaged as best she could, and she almost sighed with relief when Blaine asked if they could take a break before she started on his back.

Both Santana and Puck got the distinct impression that Blaine wanted a few minutes to himself, so they snuck off into Puck's kitchen to gulp down a beer.

"And I thought _my_ dad was an asshole," Puck commented, keeping his voice low, not wanting Blaine to overhear their conversation.

"Puck, I'm just a candy striper. I pretty much deliver gift baskets to patients and flirt with old men to make them feel special. I'm not qualified for this. He needs a hospital. He needs a real doctor. He needs to find a new place to live before he winds up in the morgue," She added, amazingly bitter at the man who had done this to Blaine.

Santana had never really concerned herself with Blaine one way or another since him and Kurt had started hanging out. But she still couldn't contain her anger at the man who did this to him for much longer. She wouldn't wish that on her worst enemy. Santana couldn't even wrap her head around the idea that anyone could do that to another human being, much less that a parent could do it to their own child.

"I know he needs a hospital and a doctor Santana, but what you don't understand is that if he went to a hospital, he might very well end up in a morgue the second he was released. Hospitals ask questions. And when they see a teenager in that condition, with plenty of old scars to prove it's not the first time something like this is happened, they'll figure out pretty quickly what's going on."

"But wouldn't that be a good thing? Child services could take him in, his dad would go to jail, he'd be safe," Santana argued.

"No, San. He wouldn't be safe. His father has plenty of money; you think he wouldn't just bail himself out until the trial? And what do you think he'd do to Blaine the second he got out of jail? We just have to hope that for now, your bandages and his personal stash of painkillers are enough to heal him. At least physically." Puck drained his beer, and peeked out to the living room where Blaine had managed to turn over so he was lying on his front.

"Now c'mon. Let's go finish this so that I can text Schue and we can all sleep."

* * *

><p>Kurt stared at his phone dejectedly. He'd been trying to reach Blaine all night, but all his phone calls and texts had gone unanswered. That was very un-Blaine like, but Kurt pushed down the bubbling worry he felt rising in him and tried to convince himself that Blaine was just studying or had gone to sleep early.<p>

Unfortunately for Kurt, lying to himself was not one of his strengths. He was fidgety all night, flitting between one project or another trying to keep himself from overanalyzing things. Had he said something to offend Blaine? Had Blaine begun to realize that Kurt may have had just a teeny tiny little crush on him, and was therefore trying to distance himself from Kurt? Scenario after scenario ran through his head, each one worse than the last, and by the time he climbed into bed that night he had pretty much done a spectacular job of convincing himself that Blaine thought he was a horrible, awful human being and never wanted to speak to him again.

* * *

><p><em>Got Blaine's front mostly taken care of. Going to try back now. It's really bad. Will text in AM, San and I may miss the first few periods of school. <em>Will read, and then re-read the uninformative text from Puck. How bad was really bad? And was Blaine seriously insisting on going home in the morning? That didn't sound like the brightest of ideas and Blaine had always struck Will as a very bright young man.

Then Will found something new to worry about. Kurt. What, if anything, should he tell Kurt? It wasn't really Kurt's business unless Blaine gave the go ahead, but Will also didn't feel good about keeping something like this from one of his kids. It just wasn't right. And Kurt knew Blaine better than all three of them combined, so maybe where they couldn't talk any sense in to him, Kurt would be able to. Will had a feeling that he was looking at a long, sleepless night tonight.

* * *

><p>Santana hadn't thought it was possible for Blaine's back to look any worse than his front had, but she realized she was sadly mistaken when she got back to where he lay on the couch. Once again she began the slow and painful process of wiping away all the blood, only to reveal an even worse mess of bruises, scrapes and scars. The most frightening one was an eight or nine inch long, chillingly deep gash, going from his left shoulder, down towards his right hip. She couldn't keep up with the blood that was pouring out of the wound, and she wondered exactly how much blood Blaine had already lost from the injury.<p>

"Shit," Puck said out loud, before covering his mouth. He was close to caving in on the whole no hospitals and doctors thing before, and now it was twice as difficult to keep from throwing Blaine in the car and forcing him there. The only thing that kept him from doing that was the thought that if Blaine's dad had fucked him up that bad with, what Puck assumed at least, was little to no reason, he could only imagine what he would do to Blaine if Blaine went to a hospital.

"Puck," Santana murmured. "I don't, I can't," She faltered, eventually looking up at Puck with unshed tears in her eyes. "Puck this is way beyond my level of first aid."

"Just put a bandage on it and be done," Blaine muttered from the crook of his elbow.

Santana looked at Puck powerlessly, an urgency in her voice. "Puck."

"Just clean it out best you can and patch it up," Puck said gruffly, trying his best not to cave.

Santana nodded miserably, and was suddenly glad they'd thought to cover the light colored sofa in blankets before Blaine had lain down, otherwise it would be pretty hard to explain to Puck's mom why her couch was suddenly rust colored.

Santana nudged Puck while she was cleaning the wound out, pointing to some marks on Blaine's shoulder, and the back of his neck, that looked suspiciously like bite marks, and also pointing to bruises on his hips in the shape of fingertips. Puck felt his stomach drop. He knew for a fact that this was more than he and Santana could handle alone. He jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen, held up his phone, and mouthed 'Schue,' to Santana.

With shaky fingers he dialed his phone muttering "C'mon, c'mon," as he waited for his teacher to answer the phone.

"Puck? What is it? What's wrong?"

"Mr. Schue," Pucks voice caught in his throat and he tried his best to gather himself together. "Mr. Schuester, when Santana went to take care of Blaine's back, once it was all cleaned off, we saw," Puck stopped, not sure how to continue or what to say.

"Noah, I'm kind of losing my mind with worry over here, do I need to come there?"

"I don't know, Mr. Schue," Puck was trying to keep his dinner down at the thought of what all Blaine must have endured that night since it was obviously more than just mere physical abuse.

"Puck, take a deep breath, and tell me what is wrong. Please."

Puck calmed down best he could, and with a much stronger voice, continued. "When Santana got all the blood cleaned off of Blaine's back, we saw some, uh, evidence that, uh, the abuse Blaine received tonight, might have included something of, a ,um…," Puck stopped, embarrassed, before finally deciding to just power through it. If pretty boy Blaine could handle living through it, than Puck could certainly deal with telling someone about it. "It kind of looks like Blaine might have been raped, Mr. Schue. There's these marks, on his back and shoulders? They look like bite marks. And on his lower hips, it looks like someone was gripping them from behind way too hard for it to have been consensual," Puck finally just spit it all out.

Will had no idea what to say or do, but he was half way to the car by the time Puck finished his babbling. "Puck? I'm on my way. What is your address?"

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Puck asked, even though he was desperate for his teacher to come and save the day because he knew him and Santana couldn't deal with this on their own.

"No," Will answered honestly. "But I'm coming anyway."

Puck rambled off his address and a brief set of directions, and Will sped off into the night.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Thanks for the overwhelming amount of alerts and faves, please feel free to review if you are so inclined!_

**_If you live in the United States:_**

_National _Suicide Prevention_ Lifeline: 1-800-273-TALK (8255)_

_National Alcoholism and Drug Addiction Hotline: 1-888-268-9124_

_National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-HOPE (4673)_

_National Child Abuse Hotline: 1-800-4-A-CHILD (1-800-422-4453)_

**_If you live outside of the United States and are in need of the assitance of one of these programs in your area, but can't find the necessary information, then please, contact me and I will do my best to find you a number for a hotline in your area. Please, trust me, there is always hope, there is always a way out, there is no need for you to suffer in silence._**


	7. Lies

Will got to Puck's in record time and was quite proud of himself for managing not to cause a car wreck. Puck was standing outside waiting on him, frantically sucking down a cigarette.

"Schue, this is so far outside of either Santana or mine's level of expertise. I don't know how to deal with this," Puck hissed, pouncing on Will the second he exited his car.

"You aren't expected to, Puck. I'm not sure anyone really knows how to handle this, but I'll give it a shot. Is Santana done bandaging him up? I'd like a few minutes alone with him."

"Yeah, she was just about finished, there's one gash in his back that really looks like it needs stitches though. But, uh, are you sure you talking to him alone is a good idea? Won't that freak him out even more?" Puck asked anxiously, lighting another cigarette.

"Put that out," Will told him, completely ignoring the question, because no, he wasn't sure it was good idea.

Puck rolled his eyes, but stubbed it out nonetheless as they entered his house.

Santana looked up relieved when she saw them walk in. "I think he either fell asleep or passed out from the pain when I was cleaning his back," She told them, motioning to where Blaine lay with his head buried in his arms. "Or he is completely ignoring me."

"That's certainly a valid option," Puck commented.

"Bite me, Puckerman."

"All right guys, this isn't helping anyone. Why don't you two go…to any other room in the house?" Will suggested.

He waited until he was alone with Blaine before he attempted to wake him. "Blaine?" He asked softly. "Are you awake?"

"No," Came the garbled reply.

Will gave a small smile, wondering if Blaine even realized why he was here, or if he was oblivious to the fact that Puck and Santana had figured out that even more was going on than he'd led them to believe.

He knew it was selfish, but Will was extremely grateful that either Blaine or Santana had pulled Blaine's shirt down so that he didn't have to see the damage firsthand. At least not yet anyways.

Puck crept back into the room cautiously, holding out a pair of sweats and a long sleeve t-shirt. "I, uh, thought you may want to get out of those dirty clothes," Puck offered them out to Blaine, who raised his head and gave a grunt of thanks, but made no move to take them from the other boy. Puck shrugged, and laid them on the floor next to Blaine and quickly exited the room again.

"Blaine-," Will began, but stopped when he saw Blaine struggling to sit up.

"No offense, Mr. Schuester, but before we do this heart to heart, can I change?"

"Yeah, of course. Do you need help, or…"

"No!" Blaine eye's flashed with so many emotions, ranging from terror to rage that Will knew for a fact Puck and Santana had read the evidence correctly. Blaine attempted to smile and corrected himself. "Sorry, I mean, no thank you. I can change by myself I'm sure. Could you just point me in the direction of the bathroom?"

Will retrieved Puck, who waited patiently for Blaine to stand up, and led him towards the bathroom.

Blaine waited until the door was closed and he had double and triple checked the lock, before he turned on the faucet and allowed himself to sink down on the cold, tiled floor. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," He cursed to himself over and over. Will had left, the fact that he was back could not be a good thing. But for the life of him, Blaine could not figure out what it was that had brought him back. Heaving a sigh, he struggled back to his feet, knowing he had a limited amount of time before one of them was banging on the door, demanding entrance and wondering why it was taking so long. He knew they meant well, at least he was pretty sure they did, but dammit, he didn't need or want their help. He was just fine taking care of himself, like he always had. Adding outside people to the mix only complicated matters. This was not going to turn out well, and he knew it.

It took Blaine almost ten full minutes to shrug his battered clothing off, and another twenty to pull the clean set of clothes off. Halfway through, true to form, Will was knocking on the door asking if he was okay. He yelled that he was fine, and it'd be just a few more minutes. A full half hour after entering the bathroom, Blaine slowly opened the door, shut off the lights, and shuffled back into the living room, his own clothes clenched tightly in his fists.

Santana pried them away from him, reassuring him that she would wash them best she could, and Blaine was left alone in the room with Will once again.

Will noticed the way that the teen refused to meet his eyes, but he wisely decided not to comment on it. "Blaine, we're worried about you. Is there anything else going on that you would like to tell me about?"

Blaine determinedly shook his head, but kept his eyes cast downwards, and hunched in on himself even more.

Will figured that maybe taking the nice guy approach wasn't going to get him anywhere, so he tried something different. "Blaine, if you don't tell me what is going on at home I'm calling the police, and you can tell them," He stated firmly.

Blaine had steel in his eyes and ice water in his veins as venomous words dripped off his lips. "Don't you fuckin' dare," He told Will, finally looking up and making eye contact. "I swear to God if you call anyone, I'll-"

"You'll what Blaine? You can barely dress yourself. So please, enlighten me as to what you plan on doing to me."

"Just leave me alone," Blaine repeated his recurring plea of the night. "Please, can you all just leave me alone? I'm tired. I'm sore. I feel like shit, and I just want to go to sleep. _Please_," Blaine kept looking at Will, his eyes shining bright, and Will knew he was doing all he could not to break down and cry, or scream, or one of million other things that he had every right to do right then.

"Okay," Will relented, and Blaine let his shoulders relax. "On one condition," Blaine's shoulder's tensed back up, but Will plowed on. "I want to talk to you in the morning, after you've rested."

"Fine," Blaine agreed quickly, lying straight to his face, saying what he had to say to be allowed to sleep. He figured in the morning he could just refuse to talk, and there wouldn't really be much that Mr. Schuester could do about it, now would there?

Will left shortly thereafter, making both Puck and Santana promise to call him if they needed anything, and assuring them he would be back first thing in the morning. Blaine sat rigidly on the couch, pain etched on his face, refusing to look anyone in the eye. He only moved when Puck offered to show him to his room so he could sleep. Stiffly, and with even more difficulty than before if that was possible, Blaine rose from the couch, refusing the hand Santana held out to help him up, and he trailed after Puck, towards his small, but surprisingly neat room.

"Thanks," He told Puck with a genuine trace of gratitude in a voice that was raspy with pent up emotion.

Puck nodded a reception and closed the door quietly, finally allowing Blaine the privacy he'd been craving all night.

The second the door closed behind Puck, Blaine finally allowed himself to break down. He had his dignity and his self worth ripped from him night after night constantly, but he'd be damned if he allowed anyone to see how much it affected him. They could say and do what they wanted, but Blaine refused to allow anyone to ever see him broken like this. This was a side of himself that he would never share with anyone, and it was one thing no one could force away from him. Sometimes it felt like one of the only things he had control over anymore was his ability to seem completely unaffected and unfazed by the horrors of his home life.


	8. Broken

_A/N: First off, I raised the rating to M. It's getting darker (Yup, that's possible believe it or not. And even now they're only about three quarters into the cave, so there's still some sunlight shining through and it isn't pitch black yet. Just wait 'til they get all the way in) and I wanted to be safe. Second, I hope you like angst. (Which if you've read this far I assuming you do…) Because I seem to have this incredible knack for causing the characters I love the most incredible amount of pain. Sorry Blaine, but realistically, you're a fictional character on a TV show, so I'm sure you'll get over it. _

* * *

><p>As cautiously as he possibly could, Blaine eased his body down on Puck's bed on top of the covers. He tried his back first, since that was how he normally slept, but it only took him about half a second to realize there was no way that was going to work. He felt like someone had poured acid down his spine the second he put even the slightest amount of pressure on it. Blaine had no idea how he'd managed to lay on his back for the hour it took Santana to patch up his front, he could only assume it had something to do with all the pills he'd been popping that day. He managed to turn over onto his stomach, to see if that would work any better. At first it did, but five minutes later he was cursing in pain again. So began the next forty five minutes. Side, to stomach, to other side and back again. None of the positions were going to last for long enough for him to fall asleep again, so he struggled out of bed and went to get his pills, hoping enough of them would not only take some of the pain away, but knock him the fuck out.<p>

Confused, he searched the room for his jacket, growing more and more agitated when he couldn't locate it, until he remembered Santana had taken his clothes to try and wash them. "Godammit," He muttered to himself.

The door creaked open as Blaine tiptoed out into the hallway, hoping Santana had left his pills somewhere easily accessible, but not wanting to wake her or Puck. After a few minutes of searching, he found them in the kitchen on the countertop, and gratefully shoveled a few in his mouth, turning on the tap and drinking straight from the faucet. He was heading back towards the bedroom, hoping against hope that now he would be able to sleep when he heard his name and stopped, turning towards the speaker. It took him a second to realize no one was talking _to_ him, but instead, Puck and Santana were still in the living room awake, speaking in hushed tones _about_ him.

"Puck, we can't let Blaine go home to that…that…that," Santana couldn't think of a word bad enough to describe his dad.

"Abusive piece of shit?" Puck suggested.

"Exactly," Santana nodded. "Come on, Puck. You saw the marks just like I did. Either Blaine really is secretly gay, and also into some seriously kinky BDSM bullshit…or his dad, or _someone_ at least, freaking raped him. It's sick, it's horrible and quite honestly it scares the crap out of me, and it isn't even happening to me. We can't let him go back there and you know it, Puck. You fuckin' know it," Santana hissed at Puck, staring him down and challenging him to disagree with her.

Blaine's blood ran cold. So _that_ was why Mr. Schuester had randomly shown up earlier. There was no way Blaine was going to stay here now. Not if they had managed to figure out more of what was going on. They had the semantics wrong at least, but there was still no way in hell Blaine was going to be here for them to question in the morning. He thought he'd seen a back door leading out of the kitchen, so as hastily as he could in his condition, he went back the way he'd just come from, jacked his bottle of pills off of the counter, and let himself out the back door.

He wished he'd been able to grab his shoes, but they were in the living room, right next to Puck and Santana. _Oh well_, he thought. _It's not like a few scratches on my feet are even going to be noticeable with all this other shit. _

Blaine made his way to the front of Puck's house and realized he had absolutely no idea where he was. Nothing was familiar and he had no idea which way to head, so he just turned left and hoped for the best. An obnoxiously long time later, he finally got to an intersection, and muttered a thank you to no one in particular when he recognized his surroundings. It would take him forever to make it home from here, but the thought of walking home all those miles no matter how beat up he was still sounded better than dealing with Puck, Santana or Mr. Schuester in the morning.

By the time Blaine finally stumbled into his household it was somewhere between late morning and early afternoon as best he could tell. He'd taken back roads and gone completely out of his way to make sure he'd stayed off any main roads, just in case Puck, Santana and Mr. Schuester were out looking for him, and also because he really didn't want to try to answer any questions as to why he was wandering the highway in sweats, barefoot, and looking like he'd been to hell and back if anyone who knew him happened to pass him by.

Glancing in the garage, he felt comforted when he noted that his father wasn't home. That was pretty much the only piece of good luck he'd had in the past twenty four hours, but right now it felt like the only one that really mattered. He couldn't even begin to imagine trying to face his father right now and he was extremely glad he didn't have to.

_How nice for him. I'm so delighted that he is able to stay up getting shit faced, beat his son senseless for no reason, allow his friends to force themselves on me time and time again while they taunt me, and yet still get a good night's sleep and be in the right frame of mind to go to work in the morning_, Blaine thought to himself sarcastically.

Giving a cursory glance around the house, he scoffed at the mess in the foyer, kitchen, dining room and his bedroom where all the violence had taken place. He knew he'd have to get it cleaned up before he would be able to sleep. If his father got home from work and found Blaine asleep in his bed with a huge mess all over the house, no matter that it was a mess Blaine certainly hadn't made, he'd have hell to pay. And while Blaine wouldn't have admitted to himself, much less anyone else, he was scared to death that right now if his father went off the handle again he'd be done for.

Blaine wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. He'd thought being down to only one year sounded wonderful, but now he was afraid, because the closer the time drew to him being able to leave for good, the more vicious and nasty his father seemed to get. If Blaine was being completely honest with himself, he was terrified that he had no hope of making it to graduation alive.

None of what had happened last night had been anything new to Blaine in any way, shape or form. His father had cracked his ribs before. His father had broken his bones before. His father had taken a knife and carved him up something awful before. His father had stood idly by, laughing and cheering on his friends as they held Blaine down forcing themselves in him repeatedly, while biting, scratching and choking him before. Blaine had been burned by cigarettes, punched repeatedly to the point of blacking out, kicked, thrown down stairs, stabbed, raped, choked, bit, jeered at, insulted, humiliated and so much more practically every day of his life since he was two. But never all in the same night. Never anywhere close to the horrific events of the previous nights. It was almost as if Blaine's father realized that soon his punching bag would be gone for good, so he was getting in everything he could until his son started college the following fall. But at this rate, Blaine was seriously beginning to doubt that he had any hope of making it to the new year, much less graduation and an entire summer until college.

When Blaine finally had the mess in the house cleaned up he practically crawled up the steps to his bedroom, so sore and so completely worn out both physically and emotionally that he just felt empty and drained on the inside. Whatever shred of hope and optimism he'd had left in his system was gone by now. His thoughts were one big jumbled mess, going every which way, speeding through his mind so fast he couldn't even begin to keep up with them or sort them out. He was sick of fighting to live a life he wasn't so sure was worth living. He was tired of lying to everyone and pretending everything was okay. He was lonely, because he could never really get close to anyone and open up because it could get him killed. He was ready to give up. He was ready to just let his father win once and for all, because he knew he couldn't keep doing this.

Zombie-like he walked through the door of his bathroom and looked at the stranger in the mirror above the sink. Hollow, sunken in eyes, stared back at him from a face that just had a horribly _used_ look. Tendrils of his hair stuck to his forehead in sweat, his skin was a worrisome grey color, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not get the corners of his mouth to pull up into his signature, charismatic grin.

Agonizingly slow, he pulled up the hem of Puck's t-shirt, squeezing his eyes shut, and attempted to talk himself into opening them up and surveying the damage for himself. With as deep a breath as he could manage with cracked ribs he opened his eyes, and immediately swayed on his feet, sick to his stomach. And then, he did something he'd never once in his life allowed himself to do before. He collapsed on the floor in a heap and broke down completely, sobs racking his beat-up body until he was hoarse from the tears and had absolutely nothing left in him.

* * *

><p>Will had showed up at Puck's first thing in the morning, just as Puck's mom was getting home from work.<p>

"Oh no. If you're making house calls this early in the day he must have done something really bad this time," Puck's mom sighed, fitting her key into the door, and gesturing for Will to go in ahead of her.

"No, no, Ms. Puckerman. Actually Noah hasn't done anything at all, he isn't in trouble. He was helping out a friend of one of the other glee kids who is in a tough spot and needed a place to crash. I was just stopping y to see how they were doing and offer to drive the other boy home so that Noah wouldn't miss any school," Will explained.

Puck's mom gave a tired nod, and said, "Oh, okay then. Helping other people isn't really Noah's M.O., but if you say so," She gave a tired shrug and a weak smile. "Well if you'll excuse me, I'm tired and I have to pull a double in just a few hours."

"Certainly," Will replied, watching her retreating back until she went into a room and shut the door behind her.

Santana and Puck were sitting up on the couch and rubbing sleep from their eyes, having both been awoken by the sound of voices. It took them both a minute to remember what was going on, but when they did their demeanors changed instantly from tired to wide awake and more worried than any kid their age should ever have to be over anything. Will felt a stab of guilt at how far into this those two had been dragged, but at the same time couldn't help feeling grateful they'd been in the right place at the right time. He wasn't sure what he would of done with Blaine had they not been there, since he highly doubted Blaine would of let him close enough to even put some bandages on him.

"Mornin'," Santana mumbled, stretching leisurely. "What time is it?"

"Quarter after six. Sorry for the early wake up call. I already called the school and told them I would be absent today, so you two are off the hook…assuming Blaine will get in a car with me that is," Will informed them.

"Sounds good, Schue," Puck joined the conversation, stretching and yawning himself. "I'm gonna go wake Blaine up then, I guess."

He ambled back to his room, rapping sharply on the door. "Yo, Blaine! You awake in there man?" Puck waited a few seconds, then tried again. After the third time with no answer, he figured Blaine was probably so dead to the world he'd have to be shaken awake, so he opened the door and let himself in. "Hey, Blaine, man, c'mon, time to-," Puck stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed the empty bed. He glanced around the room, searching uselessly, before he thought that maybe Blaine had gone in the bathroom. But the door was open and the room was empty. So was the kitchen. And obviously the only ones in the living room were Santana and Mr. Schuester.

"Puck, what's wrong?" Will asked, picking up on the fact that something wasn't right.

"Blaine's not here."

"What do you mean he's not here? His shoes are right there. Did he leave barefoot?" Santana asked, sarcasm dripping from her worn out voice.

"It looks that way, doesn't it?" Puck shot back.

"All right, all right," Will interrupted the pair before it escalated into one of their all too commonplace, insult ridden arguments. "Maybe he just stepped out for some fresh air?"

All three of them knew it was a long shot, but they still trooped outside to have a look around anyways. As suspected they found no sign of Blaine.

"I guess we have to call Kurt and tell him what's going on so we can get Blaine's address," Will said reluctantly.

He hated it enough that Puck and Santana had been pulled into this mess, but at least they both came from places where they understood it a bit, and they also weren't close to Blaine, so it was easier on them to see him in that shape. Kurt had great parents, three great parents in all to be accurate, so Will had a feeling that it would be almost impossible for Kurt to wrap his head around the fact that a parent could do this to their child. Add in to that mix the fact that Kurt was pretty close friends with Blaine, at least as far as Will knew, and he had a sinking feeling it would be extremely difficult for Kurt to see Blaine like he was now. And not just on the outside, Kurt was in tune enough with those he cared for that he'd be able to easily read the look in Blaine's eyes and see the war he seemed to be waging against himself on the inside as well. The complete and utter mess of a scared, lost child Will knew he must be deep within, where he seemed determined to not let anyone else see.

Will just wanted to scratch the surface of the teen and see who he truly was underneath that façade of a confident, charming, well-mannered, perfect little trust fund kid. He hadn't seen much last night, but the few times Blaine had let his guard down, Will knew he was seeing the true Blaine. The Blaine he would probably be if it wasn't for his dad. The Blaine he probably longed to be allowed to be. The Blaine he would never have the chance to be now, whether he got away from his dad or not. Because if there was one thing Will was certain of, it was that Blaine had to be so close to breaking that it wouldn't take much more for him to snap. He was already so close, Will had seen plenty of evidence of that, because what kind of seventeen year old kid with a rich daddy carried a gun around in his pocket?

"Actually I know where he lives," Puck interrupted Will's thoughts.

"Really? How?"

Will didn't miss the uneasy glance Puck and Santana shared, but Santana cleared her throat and held up a black leather billfold.

"He left his wallet. With his driver's license. Which has his address on it," Santana explained with a sly grin.

Will didn't buy it for a second, he knew there was something else going on, but at that moment in time he wasn't too concerned with that. There were much bigger problems than whatever secret Puck and Santana weren't sharing with him.

"All right, well give me his wallet and I'll go look at his house for him," Will held his hand out expectantly.

"And what are we supposed to do?" Puck asked indignantly.

"Go to school?" Will suggested.

"No way. We're involved now. We want to help," Santana said angrily. "C'mon Mr. Schue. You can go straight to his house, and Puck and I can ride around the roads from here to there, try all the routes and look for him."

Will hesitated, so Puck piped in with another reason he should let them help locate Blaine. "We'd probably end up spilling everything to Kurt the second we saw him anyway, and then you'd have all three of harassing you to let us help."

Will knew they meant well, and they were right. They were involved now. If they wanted to skip a day of school and help out, who was he to deny them that? It's not like he often got the chance to see these two looking out for someone other than themselves anyways. "All right. Fine. You're right. You guys have certainly earned the right to help out if you want. Write down a copy of his address and anything else you think might be helpful from his wallet for me," Will relented.

Santana gave him one of her rare, genuine smiles, and nodded, taking the pen and paper Puck handed her a second later.

"Okay, so we'll check in every so often, and if any of us finds him we call or text immediately, all right?" Will told them, taking the information from Santana.

* * *

><p>"Puck, we've been everywhere but down in the fuckin' sewers. How do we even know he's still in Ohio? Maybe he hopped a bus and left this shitty town. Schue said he banged on his door for half an hour with no a\AA answer, and it's apparently pointless to try and break in, there alarm system is top of the line. A professional criminal couldn't break in their house, much less a couple of high school kids and their nerdy glee coach. Schue said he stopped by Dalton and Blaine didn't show up today. He talked to all the other Warblers and none of them have seen or heard from him since he left school yesterday. We've called all the hospitals in the area, the jails, it's useless. He's either not here, or he doesn't want to be found," Santana was practically whining by the time she finished her speech. She was tired, she was hungry, and while she sure as hell would not admit out loud, she was terrified. The side of Blaine she'd seen last night had made her look at him in an entirely new light. It seemed nobody was perfect after all. Some people were just extremely well versed at covering up the bullshit in their lives.<p>

"I know," Puck agreed, dejectedly. "It's after two. We've been searching for over seven hours. It's looking pretty hopeless." Puck banged his fist on the steering wheel angrily. He did it a couple more times for good measure before his phone started ringing, forcing him to stop and answer. "Yeah?"

"I think we're all reaching the same conclusion, huh?" Mr. Schuester asked him when he answered, ignoring the formalities.

"Yup. It ain't happenin'. We seem to have been outsmarted by a prep school pip squeak."

Santana smacked Puck's shoulder at this. "Not the time for name calling, jackass," She scolded him hypocritically.

"I suggest we all meet up at his house, give it one more go, we should have a few hours before his dad would be getting home from work, and then figure out where to go from there," Will was grasping at straws trying to figure out what to do now.

"All right. We're about ten minutes from there, so we'll see you in a few," Puck clicked off without a goodbye and started his engine.

* * *

><p>Blaine gripped the edge of the sink, pulling himself back up to standing position, embarrassed about his break down even though no one had witnessed it. He'd never allowed himself to so much as shed a single damn tear over his father since he was six years old. Eleven years. He'd made it eleven years remaining strong and optimistic that this was just a temporary and soon to be forgotten stage in his life and now he'd ruined all that in the span of a thirty minute crying jag. Aggravated, he swiped at the last of the tears streaking down his face feeling weak and out of control for allowing himself to lose it like that. He didn't know what was wrong with him this past day, he'd never been this careless with his carefully constructed disguise of the friendly and outgoing wealthy businessman's son. God, if he still had that gun he might shoot himself for allowing that to happen, he could only imagine what his father would do if he walked in and found his son crying on the bathroom floor like a girl.<p>

Wrenching the faucet on, he splashed his face with cold water, gritting his teeth and trying his best to ignore the stiffness and pain he felt over every part of his body at the jerky movements.

_Fuck why is so hot in this house?_ He thought, irritated, because there was no way he was crawling out to the hallway where the thermostat was to put the air on. He got his shirt completely off, refusing to even glance in the mirror this time, and noticed a thin sheen of sweat covering his entire body. And damn, he'd been popping pills long enough to know that they made you itchy, but fuck if he'd ever been this itchy before. Scratching furiously at his left thigh he could feel the water he'd just swallowed threatening to make an appearance. There was no way he'd make it to the toilet in time, and seeing as he couldn't remember the last time he'd ate it wasn't like it would be anything but bile anyway, so he leaned over the sink, emptying the nonexistent contents of his stomach for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

He rinsed out the sink, but still felt ill, and ended up dry heaving over the sink for an endless amount of time, which was never fun. Especially when your body was so wrecked that every tiny movement felt like you were getting stabbed repeatedly. His vision began to swim before his eyes, and he knew he was about to pass out, so he made a feeble attempt to grab his medicine chest and keep upright. It didn't work out how he wanted it to, instead he ended up hauling the cabinet completely out of the wall and straight onto his face, the mirror shattering when it made contact, and the jagged edges of broken glass giving him a handful of brand new cuts and scratches, which immediately began sending streams of blood down his face. The last thing he thought was _Shit, my head was the only place on my body with no scars_, as he slumped over unconscious, cracking his skull on the corner of the sink leaving yet another brand new gash on his face, this one on his left temple, and now his face matched in perfectly with the rest of his body.

* * *

><p>"I'm telling you, Schue, I hear water running in there. He's got to be inside. Just break a window or something. I think the police will get over it when they see Blaine," Santana had her hands planted firmly on her hips as she glared at her teacher.<p>

"Santana, for all we know a maid is in there doing laundry," Will tried to explain for the tenth time, becoming exasperated with her attitude.

"Oh, so their maids just completely ignore three people pounding and hollering on the door then? Is that it? And I really like that pretty color of their cars. What's it called? Invisible?"

Puck watched the two of them argue, growing extremely tired of listening to it since they'd been at it since the three of them met up outside of Blaine's house a few minutes ago.

"Would you two shut the fuck up already? Jesus, the two of you arguing is so not freakin' productive," Puck interceded, deciding the first thing he'd do when they got in the house was raid Blaine's medicine cabinet for some pain killers to get rid of the migraine his teacher and his slam piece had been giving him all day. "Why don't we-," Puck was cut off as they heard a loud crash come from what sounded like the second story of the house, from the direction of Blaine's room best Puck could tell.

Puck didn't hesitate, or give his teacher a chance to stop him, not that he would of, as he bent down, picking up a horrendously ugly marble statue of a lion, which was a lot heavier than it had looked, and hurled it at the huge pane of glass surrounding the front door.

* * *

><p><em><strong>If you live in the United States:<strong>_

_National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-TALK (8255)_

_National Alcoholism and Drug Addiction Hotline: 1-888-268-9124_

_National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-HOPE (4673)_

_National Child Abuse Hotline: 1-800-4-A-CHILD (1-800-422-4453)_


	9. Hospitals

Will took off his jacket and wrapped it around his fist, using it to clean the glass out enough that the three of them could climb through the gaping hole in the side of the mansion. He didn't comment on the fact that Puck seemed to know exactly where he was going when they got in the house, but it certainly confirmed his suspicions that Puck had been here before for some reason he didn't want Will to know about.

They ran up the stairs behind Puck, following him through a rather drab looking room, which Will guessed was Blaine's. It caused Will to feel yet another pierce of sorrow for the boy looking at the bland, undecorated room. There were no signs of who Blaine was. No posters of his favorite bands, no photographs of friends or girlfriends or family, the only thing that even hinted at his personality was the overwhelming amount of books and a couple of guitar cases leaning in a corner. The fact that he couldn't even be himself and show who he was in his own room spoke volumes about how Blaine must have felt about the extravagant mansion that was supposed to be his home, the one place someone was supposed to feel safe and secure. For Blaine, though, it was the one place he probably felt the least safe and secure, it was where all the horrors in his life took place, and Will couldn't really blame him for not wanting to make himself at home there.

"Shit!" Puck stopped in the frame of the bathroom door, causing Santana to almost run into the back of him, and yet again Will ignored the swear words that seemed to come so easily out of at least two of his Glee students. In fact, when he pushed past the teens to observe the scene for himself, Will found himself very unprofessionally letting go of his own string of curse words.

"Puck, call an ambulance, we have no choice this time, and use your phone, Santana's number probably won't be taken seriously right now. Santana, find a towel," Will ordered, getting down on his knees next to the worryingly motionless body on the bathroom floor. He used the jacket still wrapped around his hand to brush away as much of the glass as he could before his eyes fell on the obscene amount of pill bottles and pills littering the floor where the medicine chest had crashed to the floor.

He turned Blaine over as gently as he could, not really having a whole lot of first aid experience, but he knew enough to pry open one if his eyelids and be worried by how dilated Blaine's pupils were. Feeling for a pulse he felt the same, erratic heartbeat Blaine had had the night before, only this time it was disturbingly slow as well.

Will told Santana to hold the towel she was wringing in her hands against Blaine's temple where a particularly gruesome wound was gushing blood out a rapid speed. Santana didn't hesitate and followed his instructions. Will took the phone from Puck who was trying unsuccessfully to explain the situation to the 911 operator, and told Puck to see if he could possibly wake Blaine up somehow.

"My name is Will Schuester, I have a seventeen year old boy here who was badly beaten last night, and now has fallen and seemingly pulled a cabinet on himself in the process, causing multiple head wounds. There's also a chance he has overdosed on multiple types of pills. We need an ambulance immediately."

"One has already been dispatched, sir. Do you know have any idea who beat the boy up?" The operator tried to speak in soothing tones which Will found almost annoying, like he was being babied.

"His dad," Will said without hesitation, offering up a silent prayer that he was doing the right thing and hadn't just signed Blaine's death warrant.

"Do you know this for a fact, sir?"

"Yes," Will stated firmly.

"All right. The ambulance is close, could you send someone out to show the EMTs where to go? And the police will meet you at the hospital to take your statements. Is the man responsible at your location?"

Will covered the mouthpiece and told Puck to go outside, since he was having no luck in waking the other boy. "No, it's his house, but he's at work. Thank you," Will told the operator, and then hung up the phone, figuring she had enough information and he was more concerned with the boy lying half dead on the floor in front of him.

"Blaine?" Will said uselessly, returning to the floor next to him, giving Santana a nod of encouragement since she looked pretty close to panicking. He grabbed a washcloth from beside the sink, soaking it with warm water and wringing it out, and trying to wipe some of the blood off Blaine's face so he could make sure the injury near his temple was the only one that really needed to have pressure kept on it.

"Mr. Schue, there's a lot of blood here," Santana murmured, the white towel in her hand almost completely soaked in a sickening color of crimson.

Will was saved from thinking up a reassuring answer when he heard Puck hurrying in the room with the paramedics. Puck, Santana and Will stayed back giving them the space they needed, as they checked him over, putting temporary bandages around his head to slow the blood flow, and reapplying the one on his back where it had managed to soak through the bandages Santana had applied last night. Will guessed that when he'd crashed he'd hit his back pretty good on the hard floor, causing more agitation to an already worrisome injury. When they took off the bandages it was the first time Will had seen the extent of the damage Blaine's dad had done to him, and he felt instantaneously sick. After a brief flash of the sickening sight of Blaine's back after they turned him over, Will turned his head, feeling slightly guilty, but he just couldn't stand to look at it. He may not have been a dad, but he'd thought he was going to be one for a while, and he couldn't imagine doing that to his nonexistent child. Knowing that somewhere out there was a man who could do that and so much worse to his own child, his own flesh and blood, made Will's stomach churn and an overpowering sense of anger at Blaine's dad began to boil within him.

The paramedics loaded Blaine onto a stretcher and began to carefully descend the stairs, with Puck, Santana and Will trooping down after them. They put him in the ambulance, and turned to Will acknowledging him for the first time.

"Are you legally responsible for this kid?" One of them asked him.

Will shook his head, even though he considered lying. "No. The man who is responsible for Blaine is also the one who is responsible for his condition," Will couldn't keep the anger out of his voice no matter how much he tried.

A look of unease and shock passed briefly over both EMTs faces, but they quickly recovered. "Well is anyone accompanying us in the ambulance?"

"I am," Puck spoke up, surprising both Will and Santana.

Will nodded, though. "We'll meet you at the hospital than, Puck."

Santana, who had been gripping Puck's hand tightly since the ambulance arrived gave it a quick squeeze and kissed him on the cheek, then turned to head towards Will's beat up car.

Puck climbed in the ambulance after everyone else, shooting worried glances at the guy he barely knew the whole time. Typically, guilt was not an emotion Puck felt. But he couldn't shake the thought that this was partially his fault. From the get go he'd known something was off with Blaine, and while his was nowhere near the scale of Blaine's, he'd been in a similar situation, and he felt like he should have recognized the signs. They were so glaringly obvious now. He should have recognized the look of helplessness in Blaine's eyes, the way he was so uncomfortable around adults, the way his eyes never stopped roaming the room, as if waiting for someone to strike at anytime. When Puck first saw those pills yesterday, he should have called Kurt, who might have been able to get a hold of Blaine before this escalated to the current predicament. He should have stayed awake last night and made sure Blaine didn't leave. He should have insisted on a hospital the second he saw his back. Shoulda, coulda woulda. If hindsight was 20/20, then foresight was blind. Puck felt responsible for Blaine now, plain and simple. He was at least partially to blame for this, so he made up his mind that he would be there for Blaine now, in whatever way he could. And that started with not leaving him alone in an ambulance.

Puck tuned out the paramedics in the background, since all of their medical terms made no sense to him. The most he could gather is they were worried about how much blood he'd lost, worried about the fact that they could not get him to awaken, and worried about a bunch of other random things as well. Instead, Puck focused his attention on Blaine. His dark hair was coated in thick blood, his face was tinted pink from the hasty job Mr. Schue had done of wiping it clean, and his torso looked no better than it had last night. Above his right eye, there was a jagged cut most likely from the glass that broke, and Puck concentrated on how close to his eye it was. That looked like one thing Blaine had been lucky with, because Puck could tell if it had been even a centimeter lower, the glass would have gotten him directly in the eye, blinding him in that eye, most likely for life.

The ambulance turned in the hospital, and screeched to a halt in front of the emergency doors. Puck sat out of the way and let the paramedics go about getting Blaine out of the ambulance, then rushed inside with them, where he was stopped by a nurse.

"Sir, you can't go any farther. You'll need to wait here until his family arrives. We can only talk to family, I'm sorry."

Puck started to explain that as far as he could tell, Blaine's only family was his dad, and that was the person who'd done this to him, but the nurse had left. He looked to Mr. Schue who had just joined him with Santana, and his teacher gave him a small nod before walking over to talk to the nurses' station.

* * *

><p>An hour later found the small trio waiting outside of the ICU for any type of news, and Will struggling with a tough decision. He finally made up his mind, and motioned to a very tired and worried looking Pick and Santana that he was stepping outside. Hesitating for just a second, Will pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his numbers until he found the one he was searching for. They picked up on the third ring.<p>

"Hummel Tires and Lube," Came a harried voice.

"I'm looking for Burt Hummel."

"You got him. What can I do you for?"

"Mr. Hummel, this is Will Schuester, Kurt and Finn's glee coach? Do you have a moment to talk?"

"If it has to do with my kids, then yes, I've always got time," Burt replied.

"Well, it sort of has to do with Kurt. I'm assuming you've met Kurt's friend, Blaine?" Will asked, continuing when he heard Burt give a grunt of agreement. "I'm at the hospital with him."

"What? Is Kurt?"

"No, as far as I know Kurt is in school, as is Finn. But I needed to speak to you about why Blaine is here, and how you want to handle telling Kurt about it, if you decide you want him to know," Will began ominously, before launching into the whole, sordid tale.

* * *

><p>"Excuse me are you the family of Blaine Anderson?" A nurse interrupted the nap that Puck, Santana, and Will had all been taking in their chairs.<p>

Will wished he could just lie and say yes so that he could get some information on Blaine without all the red tape, but he knew that wouldn't be plausible. The police had come in and taken the statements of the three of them, telling them they'd do the best they could to get the scumbag behind bars, but first they'd need Blaine's statement, and for Blaine to formally press charges. Neither of which he could do unconscious.

"No, but we're with him," Will replied.

"Is there anyone here who is a relative of him?" The nurse pressed on.

"Look lady, the only person we know of who is related to him, is the asshole who did this to him. We've been with him since last night, so maybe you should tell us what the fuck is going on," Santana burst out angrily, jumping up and pointing an accusing finger at the nurse.

"Santana, it's not her fault, it's hospital policy," Will pulled Santana back down into her seat, and shot the nurse an apologetic look. "There's no one here for him but us, is there anything at all you can tell us?"

"I'll send the doctor out and you can discuss it with him. I'm sorry I can't give you any information," She smiled, and walked over to a man who looked a few years older than Will, sporting a pair of blue scrubs and motioning towards their little group. The man nodded and then headed over towards them.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Weiss. I'm treating Blaine. The most I can tell you is that I just got done stitching him up, and setting his ribs and ankle. He's in coma, in critical but stable condition, and we expect him to awaken sometime in the next day or two if not sooner. He had overdosed on a potentially lethal combination of pain killers, but it doesn't look like any permanent damage was done from that or from the head injury. There's always a slight chance of complications with a head injury, so we will not know a full report on his condition until he wakes up, but I didn't see any signs of brain damage, so I wouldn't even worry about that. The wound on his back is going to take some time to heal and most likely some extensive physical therapy, but he got lucky that it missed all major places and he isn't paralyzed. Other than the flesh wounds, he has five broken ribs, his left ankle is broken and his left knee is sprained, a concussion, major blood loss, he's dehydrated and a few of the injuries, including the one on his back and another deep cut on his right thigh are infected," Dr. Weiss stopped and smiled sheepishly. "That was actually more than I really should have told you, but someone who cares should understand his condition. Blaine was a lucky young man this time. Everything will heal eventually, aside from possibly his psyche. There's really nothing more you three can do here, so maybe you should go home and get some rest and try coming back tomorrow. If Blaine's awake and gives the okay I can let you in to see him."

"Thanks, Dr. Weiss," Will said, standing up and shaking his hand. Puck and Santana stood up as well, raising their eyebrows at their teacher.

"So are we just going to leave him alone in the hospital? What about when his dad comes?" Santana asked.

"I doubt they'd let his dad anywhere near him until they get a statement from Blaine. So for now, there's nothing we can do but go home and hope for the best. It's on Blaine's shoulders now, and we just have to trust he'll be honest with the police and he'll get himself the help he needs.

Puck had been noticeably quiet since they'd arrived at the hospital, and he just shrugged and headed towards the door. Santana stared after him and then looked at Will confused. Will shrugged back and gave her a small smile, before motioning at her to go first.

"I don't like this, Mr. Schue," Santana muttered.

"I don't really either, but we're kinda low on options."

* * *

><p>Burt heard the sound of the front door slam, and glanced at his wife Carole uneasily.<p>

"Kurt, Finn, could we talk to you boys a second?" Burt asked when they came in the living room.

"Now dad? Can it wait? I need to call Blaine, I haven't been able to reach him in a couple days and I'm worried," Kurt tried to blow his dad off, but Burt shook his head.

"No, Kurt, now. This actually concerns that."

Kurt actually pulled his face away from his cell phone at that, giving his dad a curious look. He took in the serious look on his dad's face and shrugged out of his jacket, hanging it up before joining his dad, stepmom and stepbrother in the living room.

"Is this gonna take long? I want to call Puck and find out why he wasn't at school today," Finn asked.

"Santana and Mr. Schuester were out as well," Kurt told Finn, who opened his mouth to respond only to be cut off by Burt.

"All right guys, I can actually give you answers to where everyone was today if you'd stop yapping for a second and let me speak."

"Sorry," They muttered simultaneously, looking at their parents expectantly.

Burt was unsure how to continue, bus as delicately as he could he tried to explain the situation to his boys, holding up a hand and plowing on every time one of them tried to interrupt him, which was often.

When he finished, Kurt and Finn were both abnormally quiet, all the interruptions from earlier gone.

"Kurt?" Burt asked, since his son looked close to tears.

"I'm going to the hospital," Kurt said, standing up.

"So am I," Finn added.

"Guys, there's nothing you can do there. When he wakes up if you want to go, I'll drive you there myself, but for right now you need to go do homework and keep busy."

"No, I need to go to the hospital," Kurt responded, unwavering in his decision. "If his mom is dead and he had no brothers or sisters, than he's alone there. And I don't care if he's unconscious, I'm not leaving him alone at a place like that. No one deserves that."

Carole patted her husband's arm, and answered for both of them. "If this is something you feel strongly about, than who are we to tell you no? You can both go wait in the waiting room if you'd like, but I expect you to take your homework with you and when visiting hours are over, if he hasn't woken up then you are to come home, go to school tomorrow and then we'll see where we are. Okay?"

"Not really, but I'll take what I can get," Kurt muttered.

Finn nodded his consent, and picked his keys back up from the coffee table and his book bag off the floor. Kurt grabbed his satchel, and followed him out to the car silently.

"So you had no idea any of this was going on?" Finn asked Kurt as he started the car and backed slowly out of the driveway.

"No, how would I? Blaine never exactly invited me over for tea parties with the Queen, you know. And he never talks about himself. I probably should have seen it though. Seen a sign that something wasn't right, read between the lines, _something_," Kurt began the process of beating himself up.

"If he didn't want you to know, you weren't going to know," Finn tried to ease Kurt's mind, But Kurt just shrugged and stared out the window until they pulled in the parking lot.

He unbuckled and grabbed his bag, hurrying in and not bothering to wait for Finn who had to jog to catch up with him.

Neither hid their surprise well when they saw Puck sitting in the uncomfortable chairs outside of Blaine's room where a nurse had directed them, reminding them it was family only allowed in his room until he woke up.

"I thought you went home?" Finn asked.

"I came back. It seemed cruel to leave him alone, even if he is asleep."

Kurt and Finn joined Puck and they all lapsed into silence, the two brothers' earlier promise to do their homework long since forgotten, and their bags lay ignored on the floor next to them.

Finn wasn't sure why'd he insisted on coming. It wasn't like he knew Blaine all that well and he was actually supposed to have a date with Rachel tonight, who he supposed he should text and tell her he couldn't make it. When Burt had told them what had happened, though, all he could think about was how horrible it would be to wake up, alone in a hospital, with no one even there caring that you had woken up. So he thought he should go with Kurt, keep him company, and that way, when Blaine woke up there would be two people, not just one, and certainly not no one.

He was surprised to see Puck, since Puck had never exactly been quiet about his disdain for the rick friend, but he figured Puck had his reasons, so he didn't push it.

"Wow, we could practically have a glee club meeting," A sarcastic voice noted, the owner of that voice dropping into a seat across from the boys, along with another person.

"Santana, Brittany, why are you two here?" Kurt asked.

"Well I'm here because I have nothing better to do, and I helped him last night so I figure I have a right to know how this plays out," Santana told him, but Kurt could tell it was more than that, she just wasn't willing to admit it.

"I don't know why I'm here," Brittany said honestly. Then again, Brittany rarely knew why she was anywhere it seemed.

And so, a couple hours later, when Will's conscience got the best of him as well, that was the group he found sitting outside of Blaine's room, all of them atypically quite. He joined them, nodding to Kurt who pointedly ignored him, most likely still mad that no one had bothered to tell him what was going on until now.

They all looked up when the door to Blaine's room opened, and Dr. Weiss came strolling out.

"He's awake, but he's not really talking yet. Just a lot of glaring. He seems better than expected, though, so that's a good thing. The police are heading in now to take a statement, because they can't arrest his dad unless Blaine confirms what you've told them. When they're finished though, I'll ask him if any of you are allowed in and if it's ok with him, it's ok with me. But I do ask that you keep it to one person at a time, all right?" The doctor smiled and walked away.

Kurt anxiously drummed his fingers on the arm rest of his chair until Santana told him she'd break them off if he did it one more time. So they all continued to sit there in silence, glancing at each other every once in awhile until finally two plainclothes policemen came out of his room.

"Will Schuester? Could we speak to you privately?"

Will had a feeling this couldn't be a good thing, but he nodded and joined them a few feet away from his glee kids.

"Blaine is quite adamant that these injuries did not come from his father. In fact he asked if anyone had contacted him to tell him where he was so he wouldn't worry. He told us he was walking down the street and was jumped and that he did not see his attackers."

Will sighed, and his shoulder slumped in defeat. He'd been afraid of something like this. Blaine was going into survival mode, and in his mind the only option was to make his dad out to be wonderful so no one would question him, in the hopes that when he got home the repercussions wouldn't be too horrible.

"He's lying. He's a scared kid and he's lying, you have to know that," Will told the police.

"We believe you. Unfortunately, we can't do anything unless Blaine says it was him or unless you actually saw his dad beating him?" Will shook his head. "Then I'm sorry, but unless Blaine changes his story, we have nothing we can hold against his dad aside from circumstantial evidence. And with Blaine not speaking and protecting him, our hands are tied. But here's a card with my number on it, if you are able to talk Blaine into seeing reason, contact us immediately and we'll do everything we can to get him out of that house, into protective custody, and get his scumbag father locked up." With one last apologetic look the police turned and left, leaving Will staring at a business card with no idea where to go from there.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Sorry for this chapter. The hospital and medical bs is necessary, but it bores me and I don't enjoy writing it. So I kinda skimmed over a bunch and also made up a bunch of bullshit. I have no damn idea about medical terminology or procedures and same goes for police investigations and how it would work. So just go with all my errors, and know that I'm aware of them. And the next chapter will be better, I hope, cause let's be honest, this one sucked. There's a possibility of the next chapter being up tonight, depending how it goes, otherwise we're looking at Friday, probably, because I work a double tomorrow, and then Thursday I have my NA meeting after work. So I'll see what I can get done right now._


	10. Why

_A/N: Short, but important chapter. Next one will be longer. Promise. And have more going on._

* * *

><p>"What's wrong?" Kurt jumped on Will the second he got back to his students.<p>

"Blaine told the police he was jumped on the street and has no idea who did this to him. He's not pressing charges or admitting it was his dad."

They all started talking at once, until Will held up a hand for silence. "We can't force him to do something he doesn't want to do, guys. We just have to continue to stick by him and make sure he knows we're here for him no matter what he needs. We can try to gently push him in the right direction, but if we shove he's just going to run, and then we'll be even less help to him. So when you see him, think before you speak, all right?"

"Does that mean we can see him?" Kurt asked eagerly.

"Yes, the doctor said he okayed it. Kurt, why don't you go on in first, you're the closest to him. The doctor asked that we all try to keep it short and simple for now, visiting hours are over soon and he doesn't want anyone to overwhelm Blaine."

Kurt nodded, already halfway to Blaine's room. He steeled himself before he headed in, remembering that Santana had warned him how bad it looked. He still wasn't ready for what he saw when he opened the door, though. Blaine was resting on his side in the hospital bed, his back to the door. The covers were thrown off, and he didn't have a shirt on, but all Kurt saw was a bunch of pink tinted bandages on his back and tubes and IVs running in and out of him everywhere, causing him to look even worse. The bandages wrapped around his head and the numerous cuts and scratches decorating his face didn't help much, either.

"Blaine?" He said softly, walking around to the other side. The boy had his eyes closed, but they flew open the second he realized he was no longer alone. Kurt tried not to wince at the sight of his front, also covered in bandages, barely any skin left exposed, and that which had been was covered in various, jagged white scars.

Blaine's eyes focused on the face in front of him slowly, until realization dawned on him. It felt like years since he'd been sitting down drinking coffee, with Kurt, when in reality it was only 48 hours ago. "Hey, Kurt," Blaine attempted a smile, but ended up contorting his face in pain instead.

"How are you feeling?" Kurt asked, his forehead creasing with worry.

"Peachy keen. Thinking about signing up for a triathlon," Blaine joked, coughing harshly when he tried to laugh.

Kurt handed him the glass of water next to his bed, but Blaine shook his head, refusing. Setting the glass back down untouched, Kurt turned his attention to his friend. "Blaine, why didn't you tell me what was going on?"

"I'm not sure what you're talking about. I was jumped walking down the street last night after my car broke down," Blaine lied smoothly.

Kurt, however, was having none of it. "Bullshit," He stated, wondering why Blaine felt the need to lie to him. "Since when is our friendship based on lies?"

Blaine sighed wearily. "I have no idea what you are talking about, Kurt. You know what? On second thought, I don't really think I'm up to visitors right now. Tell everyone I said sorry. You can show yourself out, right? I'm a little tied up right now."

"Blaine-," Kurt began.

"I said get out, Kurt! Just leave me the fuck alone, all right? Jesus _Christ_, what is it with you New Directions not understanding when someone say to leave them the hell alone?"

Blaine had never raised his voice at or even around Kurt before, and Kurt found himself heading for the door. "You know how to reach me if you change your mind," He said shakily, before quickly stepping out into the waiting room, refusing to let Blaine see the tears that were threatening to spill out of his eyes.

"Kurt?" Mr. Schuester asked, placing his hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Blaine's noit really up to visitors right now. Finn, I'll be in the car," Kurt tuned on his heel and walked away quickly, unwilling to answer the questions he'd knew they have, not wanting to admit that he'd been kicked out of his best friend's hospital room indefinitely.

* * *

><p>Will watched Kurt's figure rush out of the hospital, and let out a heavy sigh. "All right guys. I'm sure Blaine really appreciates that you all showed up and want to see him, but let's respect his wishes for now and give him some time to himself.<p>

Everyone nodded in agreement, and they slowly filed out of the waiting room, leaving Will alone. He decided to at least tell the boy goodbye, and he let himself in Blaine's room, knocking as he entered.

"Blaine?" Will asked the teen, who was lying in the hospital bed with a blank stare. Blaine turned his head to look at Will, and he was struck by how simultaneously young and old Blaine looked. The look on his face was one that belonged on someone much older. There was too much pain, too much realization at how cruel and unforgiving this world could be, too much hurt and hopelessness in his eyes for them to be gracing the face of someone who couldn't even legally buy a pack of cigarettes yet. But if you looked close enough you could also see that he was still just a child. A kid who'd never known the love of a parent, who never understood what it was like to be accepted and loved for exactly who you were. A kid who just wanted to be loved.

"Why?" Blaine asked plainly, coughing as he spoke. Why, he asked. A simple word that was filled with so much behind it. "Why would you do this to me? Don't you understand? Its already bad enough there. I have no hope of surviving until college now. I'm dead the second I walk out of this hospital. Why do you all hate me so much that you'd do this to me? Why does everyone in my life hate me and wish I was dead? What did I do so wrong? I try. I fuckin' try as best I can to be what everyone wants, what everyone expects, but no one cares. No one has ever fuckin' cared. Why does no one ever care?"

Will could tell Blaine was holding back tears, and he hated that. He hated that Blaine had been taught that it was weak and pathetic to cry. He hated that Blaine thought he had to always come off as strong and let it all just roll off his back. More than anything, Will wished the dam would break and the boy would just allow himself to cry the tears he deserved to cry.

"Blaine, I _do_ care. That's why you're here. I couldn't let you die on the bathroom floor. At least here you have a fighting chance."

"No. I don't. I'm done. I'm not fighting anymore. There's nothing left to fight for. Don't you get that? I quit. I give up. I've been fighting for 17 years, Mr. Schuester, and I'm tired. I'm so godamned tired," Blaine quit speaking suddenly, as if he was afraid he'd said too much.

"Blaine," Will said soothingly, laying a hand on the boy and not realizing his mistake until it was too late.

"Don't touch me!" Blaine yelled, beginning to panic until Will removed his hand and backed up towards the door. "Get out of here. Leave me alone and get the fuck out. I don't want you or anyone from your godamned glee club near me ever again, so just get the fuck out!"

"I'm sorry Blaine," Will said quietly, inching close enough to the bed to lay a piece of paper down on the table next to it. "If you ever need anything, that's my cell number. Please don't hesitate to call. Anytime, day or night. Puck and Santana's numbers are there as well, along with Emma Pillsbury, our guidance counselor and a good friend of mine. We just want to help Blaine. We care, we all care. And so does Kurt. So please don't think you're alone. I hope to see you again someday." Will let himself out of Blaine's room, wishing he could do more to help Blaine, but knowing that until Blaine was ready to accept help, his hands were tied.


	11. Unconditional

Blaine watched Will walk out and briefly considered crumpling up the piece of paper and seeing how his basketball skills were holding up, but he refrained. Instead, he picked up the piece of paper, holding the corner between his forefinger and thumb as if it had germs and studying it. If it all came to a blow when he was released home, like he knew it would, he really didn't see himself bugging Mr. Schuester, Ms. Pillsbury or Santana. But he kept the paper for Puck's number. Puck seemed to understand it all, or at least a little bit, which was more than he could say for the others. He knew they meant well, he knew they had good intentions, but he wished they understand that he couldn't afford to get close to anyone. Getting close to people just caused complications, and Blaine had more than enough complications in his life right now. If you got close to people they started asking questions, they started prying into your private life, and Blaine could not afford to have anyone taking a microscope to his life. Whatever was left of it.

He was just about back asleep when the door to his room opened.

"Blaine?" Said an unfamiliar female voice. Inwardly, Blaine groaned. Outwardly, he cracked open one eye and glared at the intruder. It was a young woman, no older than 30, very pretty and very annoying already if you asked Blaine.

"Hm?" He grunted.

"Dr. Weiss sent me in. My name is Laurel. I need to document your injuries, just in case you decide to press charges in the future. He also wanted me to do a rape kit," She added after a moment's hesitation, seeming as uncomfortable with the word rape as he was.

"No. You can do the pictures if you have to, but I really see no need for a rape kit, seeing as I wasn't fuckin' raped," Blaine declared, briefly wondering where all his manners had gone. He used to be the most polite person in the world, at least on the outside. But lately, he couldn't bring himself to pretend to have respect for adults. They'd never done shit to deserve it, so why should he give it so willingly?

"Are you sure? Dr. Weiss said-"

"I don't really give a shit what the damn doctor said, he wasn't there, I was. So I'm gonna venture a guess that I know better than him whether or not I was fuckin' raped, all right? And I don't see much need for the photos. I was jumped, I didn't see anything or anyone. I wouldn't recognize whoever did this if they walked up and introduced themselves," Blaine added, sounding so convincing that the nurse faltered, wondering if the doctor had gotten his facts wrong. Blaine idly wondered if it would be acceptable to add 'Professional Liar' to his resume when he graduated college, because if there was one thing he had more talent in than music and singing, it was lying. He was a great liar, and he knew it. Maybe that wasn't something to be proud of to most people, but to Blaine it was what had kept him from being under suspicion and kept him alive up until now.

The politeness that had been drilled into him and his typically kind nature got the best of him, though, and he relented. "You can do the photos if you have to. I won't fight you on that," He told Laurel, feeling bad for how unsure she looked now.

She relaxed and gave him a tentative smile. "All right, we're going to need to take the bandages off for that."

Blaine nodded mutely, and let her do what she needed. He tried not to flinch visibly every time he was asked to move or turn a certain direction, and instead just gritted his teeth and dealt with the pain silently. If there was one thing Blaine was used to in his life it was physical pain. That was something he could handle quite well to be honest. What he couldn't handle was the nurse's obvious shock at how bad his injuries were, and how she lightly commented on how thin he looked. He also noticed her furrowing her brows and trying not to question him when she took off the bandages on his left arm.

"Are these from the attack?" She asked after studying his wrist and forearm, lightly tracing some of the deep, rough cuts that ran criss-crossed all over his left arm.

"Yes," Blaine told her, offering no further explanation. He closed his eyes while she finished and didn't open them until after she'd left.

* * *

><p>It felt like only moments later, when in reality it was a couple hours when Blaine was awoken from his sleep by his doctor.<p>

"Blaine? You have a visitor. And since we forgot to tell you earlier, if you need anything, _anything_ at all, press this button right here," Dr. Weiss pointed to a button that lay next to Blaine's bed. "More pain medicine, or someone to talk to, or, well, anything. Just press it and someone will be right in. Okay?"

"Um, okay," Blaine responded, a little confused at the intensity and urgency in the doctor's voice.

The doctor left, and allowed a man to pass him on his way out the door.

"Blaine? Jesus Christ, son, what did they do to you? Are you all right? We'll find these guys, I promise."

Blaine got even more confused as he studied the man peppering him with questions and promises. It was his father. Since when did he give two shits? And, seriously? Like he didn't know just as well as Blaine who was responsible for his current condition. Then, suddenly, realization dawned on Blaine. His father may be a complete jerk, but he was also one of the most intelligent people Blaine knew. He wasn't dumb enough to give any hint or indication that Blaine's condition was because of him in such a public place. No. He'd wait until they got home. And then Blaine would really pay. He could tell by the look that lurked deep within his father's eyes just how much he'd pay. Suddenly, Blaine found himself wishing that the doctor would keep him in the hospital for a lot longer than he probably planned on. Blaine had already been scared of leaving the hospital, but now, looking in his father's eyes, he found he'd never been more terrified of anything in his life.

"I didn't call 911, I swear. It wasn't my fault. Someone else called when I wasn't awake," Blaine tried uselessly to explain, hoping that maybe his father would believe him and go easy on him. Yeah, right. Since when had that man ever once gone easy on him? He knew it was pointless, but he just wasn't sure how much he could take when they released him. He had to do damage control. Now.

"Blaine, son, what are you talking about? Of course someone called 911, look at you! I just hope we can find whoever did this so I can rip them a new one. No one does this to my son." _Yeah, no one but you, right, Old Man? _"Don't worry, kid. We'll find them, and they'll never hurt you again. I was so scared when I got that call at work." _Yeah, scared that you'd be leaving your office in a police car. _"I love you, I don't like seeing you like this." _Of course you don't, I'm here and you can't beat me to a pulp yet. You only like seeing me helpless and broken._

Then Blaine's father did something he'd never once in Blaine's entire life done before. He reached down, wrapping his arms around Blaine and gave him a hug. Blaine stiffened, squeezing his eyes shut, waiting for a punch that didn't come physically, but verbally instead. "You little shit," His father whispered in his ear. "Just wait until you're back home. Who the fuck do you think you are? Someone that matters? Because you aren't. You never have been and you never will be. So just wait until you're back home with me. Trust me, you'll never pull a stunt like this again you worthless piece of shit."

Blaine was shaking with fear by the time his father pulled away, the fake smile plastered back on his face.

"I have some work to go take care of, but your doctor said they should be releasing you in a day or two, and then you can come home with me, where you belong, where I can look after you, okay?"

Blaine didn't respond. All he could do was tremble lightly, and whimper to himself as his father strutted back out of the cramped hospital room.

A few minutes later his doctor came back in the room, knocking as he entered. Blaine hated when people did that. If you were going to open the door anyway, why bother knocking at all?

"Blaine? I just wanted to let you know the tentative plan. Tomorrow, you have to meet with one of the hospitals psychiatrists, standard procedure, and assuming they clear you mentally, you will be released, unless you give me a reason to not release you into your dad's care," He leveled Blaine with a gaze, trying to force the truth out of him, but Blaine wasn't dumb enough to fall for that trick.

"Why would I not want to go home and be with my father? He'll take care of me. That sounds fine. Can I sleep now?" It was only eleven, but Blaine could barely keep his eyes open anymore.

Dr. Weiss looked disappointed at Blaine's answer, but he nodded anyway. "Sure, Blaine. Get some rest. The psychiatrist will be in to see you sometime after breakfast, all right?"

Blaine gave his own nod, and a soft thank you, relaxing slightly as the doctor left and he was finally left alone with his thoughts.

* * *

><p>Blaine moved the food around on his plate the next morning, but didn't bother to take a bite. He was tired, he was sore, he was scared and he was dreading having to talk to the psychiatrist.<p>

There was a light rap on his door, and Blaine grunted, which apparently the knocker took to mean enter.

"Blaine Anderson?" Asked a woman Blaine had never seen before. But he still knew who she was. He nodded, and shoved his tray off to the side uninterested in eating. "I'm Dr. Delaney. You can call me that, Dr. D, Mary or whatever else you're comfortable with," She gave him a warm smile and held out a hand as she approached his bed.

Blaine ignored her hand and wondered if she would still feel that way if he took to calling her 'Overly perky, annoying lady who pretends to care about the crazies'. He had a feeling she wouldn't, so he nodded and continued to ignore her hand until she let it drop down by her side.

"So, you were admitted yesterday afternoon because," She studied some papers in the folder in her hand before continuing. "You were jumped on the street? That is what landed you in the hospital, correct?"

Blaine nodded, and decided to make a game of how long he could go without having to actually open his mouth and speak a sentence to psychiatrist.

"I see you also had overdosed on a dangerous combination of pain killers, anti-anxiety pills, and anti-depressants?" Again Blaine nodded. "And I also see that they noted you had marks on your arm which they believe to be from you, not from an outside source?"

"What?" Blaine asked, taken off guard. "No. This is all from some random douche on the street." _Shit. Shit, shit, shit._

Dr. Delaney raised her eyebrows, but didn't comment.

"So, Blaine. Would you like to talk about the fact that the people who called for the ambulance claim this was done to you by a parent, and not some random person on the street?"

"No. They're wrong. Plain and simple. I was there. They weren't."

"Okay. Why don't you tell me in your own words what happened then?"

Blaine hated the phrase 'in your own words'. He didn't have any words, he didn't event the English language, so technically there was no way he could say it in his own words unless he just put a stream of nonsensical letters together and made up his own language on the spot. Which he had a feeling would not help in getting him released from the hospital. And he wanted to be released. Because he wanted to go home and face his father and get it over with. He didn't want to draw it out, and dwell on what may or may not happen, he just wanted to be done with this whole ordeal.

"My car broke down on my way home from a friend's house, I'd left my phone at home, and I was walking back towards his house when some guy jumped me. I don't really remember much else. Sorry," Blaine spoke in a short, clipped voice, making none of his normal attempts at pretending to be engaged and charming. He just wasn't in the mood to cater to anyone.

"All right, that's fine." Dr. Delaney put the folder away and looked at Blaine until he began to get uncomfortable and squirm at the scrutiny. "Blaine. I can't force you to talk. I can't make you tell me something you don't want to, and I certainly can't keep you in the hospital based on the suspicion that you aren't telling me the truth about what happened. What I can do, though, is tell you that there are people out there who care for you and who are worried about you. They just want you to be safe and happy. That's all any of us want, Blaine. There's no need to hide, there's no need to lie. Not to me, and not to your friends. If something more is going on you can tell me about it. But you don't have to. It's your decision; you control your own destiny.

"I just hope that one day sooner rather than later you realize that drugs aren't the answer. Self harm isn't the answer. Starving yourself isn't the answer. Lying to cover up for the people who hurt you, both physically and mentally, is _not_ the answer. I'm going to recommend that Dr. Weiss release you when he feels you're physically capable. I'm also going to leave you my card, in the hope that you call me if you need someone impartial to talk to, or even if you need anything at all." She laid her business card on his table, and gave him a sad smile before letting herself out.

Blaine let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and waited until the door was securely shut before picking up her card and placing it with the list of numbers from Mr. Schuester.

* * *

><p>Kurt wanted to be anywhere but walking the hallways of McKinley High right now. He wanted to be with Blaine, letting him know he was there for him and doing what he could to make him feel safe. He wanted to apologize for not seeing what was going on sooner. And he kind of wanted to slap Blaine across the face for being such a bitch to him, honestly.<p>

He knew in his heart that Blaine hadn't really meant what he said, he knew that Blaine was just scared and lashing out at one of the only people he felt close to, but that didn't really make it any better. Kurt wasn't sure how to show Blaine that he was truly, honestly, in every sense of the word _there_ for him. No matter what he needed, no matter what he said. He just wanted to see Blaine safe and happy. And he wanted, so bad, for Blaine to know that there was never a need to lie to him, that there wasn't anything Blaine could tell him that would make him look at him differently. All he wanted to do was help him. With his mind made up, Kurt decided to recruit the three other people who he knew wanted the same things for Blaine that he did, and go to the hospital. He would sit in the waiting room until someone kicked him out, even if Blaine never granted him entrance into his room. He just wanted to show Blaine that people were there for him, unconditionally. Whether he wanted to let them in to his room or his life was up to him, but Kurt needed Blaine to know that he, Puck, Santana and Mr. Schue were there for him. Sometimes, just knowing people cared and loved you and were willing to stick by you through thick and thin was enough. And right now, hope was just about all Kurt had left.

* * *

><p>"We want to keep you one more night for observation, and to make sure you're healing okay. We need to make sure that the antibiotics are getting rid of the infection, that all your stitches are staying in and that there are no unforeseen complications. So I recommend until at least tomorrow morning, but looking at your top of the line insurance information, I can keep you up to two weeks without a hitch if you think you need that much time to heal?" Dr. Weiss added, wishing Blaine would take him up on his offer. He knew there was no way these injuries were from someone random, and he knew that Blaine had either been raped or had submitted willingly to some pretty rough homosexual sex, and he also knew that there was no way the cuts on Blaine's wrist had come from anyone but the boy himself. However knowing and being able to prove, were two completely separate things. There was too much red tape when it came to medical and legal issues, and his hands were tied. If Blaine refused to admit anything, and he couldn't prove beyond a reason of a doubt that the boy was lying, than he had no choice but to treat Blaine as if everything he'd said about what had happened was the truth. But he could at least get away with forcing him to stay an extra day to gather more of his strength, and to possibly gain a little bit of much needed nutrients and hydration from the IV drip.<p>

"So I can leave first thing tomorrow?" Blaine asked eagerly.

"Assuming there are no complications, yes," Dr. Weiss responded, wishing he could say no. Sometimes, he really hated all of the legal formalities and ramifications of his job.

"Awesome. Thanks," Blaine responded with a forced smile, wanting to look as if he relished, instead of dreaded, the idea of going home with his father.

Dr. Weiss nodded, and informed Blaine that if he decided he wanted company at all today that there were four people waiting outside for him.

Blaine felt a stab of guilt after the doctor left, because he knew who the four people must be. And he couldn't help but feel guilty after what he'd said to Kurt, and how he treated him. He knew Kurt was only there because they were friends, and Kurt cared. He couldn't understand why, but he knew Kurt cared, along with Mr. Schuester, Puck and Santana. But that didn't mean he felt that he was up to visitors. Especially of the type that cared. They were the hardest to handle, the most difficult to bullshit. He just wanted to prepare himself for leaving with his father tomorrow. That would take all his concentration right now, and the added distractions of trying to apologize and show his gratefulness to the four people in the waiting room was just not going to help. So Blaine decided to try and take a nap and see how he felt when he woke up.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Coming up: More Kurt (finally!), and some heart to hearts, of course, with Blaine making them as difficult as possible, of course! Silly Blaine! There are a shit ton of alerts and faves for this, but few reviews. I would never, _**_ever_**_ withhold a chapter until 'I get so many reviews', but I would still love some more feedback! ConCrit is always greatly appreciated, and keep in mind, I can't make this story better and I can't write more of what yinz want, unless y'all tell me what exactly what it is you'd like to see. If you don't like reviewing where everyone can see PM is always on, and you can contact me that way. Thanks again for all the continuous hits, favorites and alerts. Feel free to follow me on Tumblr for random updates and to give me ideas and feedback as well! It's 'LoriEchelon dot tumblr dot com._


	12. Apologies

Life isn't a storybook. It isn't a romantic comedy. It isn't an action flick or a horror movie either. Life is more like one of those weird, awkward indie films they show at Sundance, you know, the ones that you watch once, slightly confused, always waiting for the punch line, for the big plot, for the happy ending, none of which ever come. So you watch it again, convinced you must have missed something. And again. And again. Until it finally makes sense to you. You finally see what the story line is. You finally understand the point the writer and director were trying to make. That life is not, in fact, a movie. There isn't always a grand gesture of love and a big happy ending. There isn't always buildings blowing up and an unsung hero rushing in to save the day. There isn't always a point to life like there is to movies and books. Sometimes, life is just one, long, inane, and at times boring, indie flick. And sometimes you will love that indie flick. Wake up in the morning, and watch it instantly, so excited to see it again. Other days, you will want nothing more than to scratch the back of that DVD until it's unrecognizable and unwatchable. Because you're so frustrated with it. You're so fed up with there never being a point. With there never being any rhyme or reason. With never getting that happy ending you so desperately desire.

* * *

><p>"Where is everyone?" Rachel asked, annoyed that five people were late to rehearsal, one of them being the coach.<p>

Everyone shrugged, but looked up expectantly as Finn walked into the room. "Mr. Schue canceled glee today. He said to tell you all that he's sorry for the late notice, but something else came up," He announced.

"What? Why? If we want to win nationals this year, then we can't afford to risk missing any rehearsals. We need all the practice we can get to become the best. I will not lose a second time!" Rachel's voice got higher as she got herself more and more worked up.

"Schue, Kurt, Puck and Santana had something more important to take care of," Finn said uncomfortably. He hated lying to Rachel, but his parents, and all four missing members of New Directions had already warned him it wasn't his place to say where they were or what was going on.

"More important than winning nationals?" Rachel practically screeched.

Finn winced, and mumbled an incoherent yes.

Rachel looked set to go off, but noticed everyone else had already left and it was just her and Finn now. Then she noticed the look on her boyfriend's face. "Is everything okay?" She asked, instantly softening.

"I'm sorry, Rach. I'm not really supposed to say anything, it's not my place. Just please trust me that they have a good reason, all right?"

Rachel frowned, she hated not knowing everything. But she decided not to push Finn since he looked torn already, so she gave a relenting nod and let the subject drop. For now at least.

* * *

><p>Kurt sat in the uncomfortable, tacky chair in the waiting room, forcing himself to be still and patient, and pretend that this was not at an extremely awkward group of people waiting together to see someone who quite possibly may never permit them to see him.<p>

He studied the small group he was with. Mr. Schuester, who sat rigidly in the chair next to Kurt, his face showing signs of worry and fatigue that caused him to look older than he was. Santana, sitting across from Kurt, who was filing her nails, and would look to any passerby to be completely bored, but yet Kurt could still tell she was merely trying to distract herself. And then Noah. The oddest member, because Kurt had never much gotten the impression that he really cared for Blaine, or vice versa. But the look on his face now, made Kurt wonder what exactly was going on between him and Blaine that he didn't know, because Noah looked absolutely murderous. He couldn't remember ever seeing Noah look so pissed, and somehow, Kurt knew that he wasn't mad because he was stuck sitting in a waiting room.

A terrified holler broke through Kurt's thoughts, and all four people sitting together looked up in alarm, trying to figure out where it had come from. A strangled cry of "No!" resonated around the room, and Kurt had no doubt in his mind that it had been Blaine's voice. Not really caring at the moment that he wasn't allowed in Blaine's room, Kurt jumped up and rushed in, only to find Blaine thrashing violently on the bed, a look of absolute terror on his face, eyes squeezed shut.

"Blaine," Kurt said shakily, before gathering his inner strength and strolling over to the bed. He gripped one of Blaine's fists in his hand, and used his other to snap in front of his friend's face. "Blaine!" He yelled, more sure of himself this time.

Blaine jerked awake, immediately yanking his hand from Kurt's grasp, his breathing shallow and ragged, his eyes wide and wild and unseeing. He laid there, shaken, trying to focus his attention on the boy in front of him before he remembered where he was. "Kurt," He croaked out.

"I'm sorry, I know I'm not supposed to be in here, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I'll leave you alone now," Kurt turned to leave, but stilled when he felt a cautious hand lightly grip his fingers.

"You can stay," Blaine said softly, sounding nothing like the overly confident and cocky boy that Kurt had come to know in the past year. He sounded instead like a scared child who'd just awoken from a nightmare, only to remember that the monsters under his bed were real.

"Okay," Kurt said just as quietly. "If you're sure."

Blaine nodded, and Kurt didn't comment on the way he winced in pain at the slight movement. He sat in the seat closest to Blaine's bed, and waited silently, not wanting to push Blaine and get kicked out again.

Blaine watched the younger boy and couldn't help but feel guilty at how hesitant he seemed. Blaine wasn't used to seeing Kurt not speaking his mind, or acting so tentative, and he knew it was his fault. He knew he needed to apologize, but he didn't have the words right then. Imagine that, Blaine Anderson, at a loss for words. He always had a witty comeback or a proper response to everything, but not today.

"Shouldn't you be in school?" Blaine finally asked.

"I skipped out. I couldn't stay there knowing that you were here, all alone," Kurt shrugged like it was no big deal.

"But I was a complete dick to you," Blaine said, looking confused.

"Yes. You were. But I know it wasn't me you were mad at, and that's what friends do, Blaine. They are occasionally, as you so eloquently put it, 'dicks' to each other. But you make your amends, put the past behind you, forgive and forget and move on. That's kind of what being a friend is about," Kurt grinned at Blaine.

Blaine knew he had no way around it now. He had to apologize. "If it helps, I _am_ sorry," He said sincerely, looking at Kurt with those puppy dog eyes that the other boy just couldn't resist.

Kurt's smile got wider. "I know."

Blaine nodded, resting his head back down, feeling completely drained.

"Any chance you'd be up to saying hi to just a few more people?" Kurt asked, looking so hopeful that Blaine couldn't find it in his heart to say no. Plus, he knew he owed Will an apology as well, not to mention a thank you for trying to help. Same for Puck and Santana. He didn't want to do it, but he knew he had to.

"Okay. But just for a few minutes."

Kurt jumped up clapping his hands, and Blaine couldn't help but chuckle lightly at the obvious elation in his friend. He just hoped Kurt understood when he told him later that they couldn't remain friends. This was one thing Blaine was unwavering on. Friends were bad news in his life. Even ones as genuine and well meaning as Kurt. _Especially_ ones as genuine and well meaning as Kurt.

Kurt practically skipped out the door, only to reappear a few seconds later with the three people who had seen Blaine at his worst the night before last. Blaine immediately regretted letting Kurt bring them in, but he was still trying to reconstruct his mask, and this was a good way to begin because this was the polite thing to do.

* * *

><p>Will felt a slight bit of disappointment as he took in the sight of the boy lying in the hospital bed. Despite all the injuries and bandages, despite the fact that his secret he'd tried so hard to keep was out, it was obvious that Blaine had reverted right back into his old disguise. He had a charming grin on his face, as he tried to hide the obvious pain it caused, and he was overly polite. If he hadn't been so beaten up, Will might have just grabbed the teen by the shoulders and tried to shake some sense into him.<p>

After a few minutes of polite, strained small talk, Blaine looked up at the three people who he knew had saved him, thinking they were doing right by him, not realizing he hadn't wanted to be saved.

"Thank you," He said quietly but sincerely.

"Anytime, man," Puck attempted his easy grin, but it was too strained to look authentic.

Santana just nodded, not knowing what to say. And that was beginning to annoy her. She always had something to say, even if it wasn't usually nice, but around Blaine she kept finding herself tongue tied and uncertain.

Will gave him a nod and a smile, telling him they'd do whatever they could to help him. Blaine pretended to be ignorant as to what the teacher was really saying.

Dr. Weiss chose that moment to poke his head in the door. "Sorry to do this to you guys, but I need to check over how Blaine's healing to make sure he still looks good enough to go home tomorrow."

They all told Blaine they'd see him later, and filed out, except for Will, who Blaine asked to wait a second.

"Can I just have a minute alone with Mr. Schuester?" He asked Dr. Weiss, who nodded.

"But only a few minutes, then I'm going to check you over and I want you to get some more rest. I'll be back in five."

Will turned to Blaine, wondering what this was about, daring just a little to hope that Blaine was going to ask for help.

Instead Blaine wanted to apologize. "I'm sorry for the things I said to you yesterday and the way I treated you the past couple days. It wasn't fair to you, you were only doing what you thought was best. But I need you to understand, it's not as bad as it looks. It's not like this is a normal occurrence. It was my fault really, I talked back, embarrassed him in front of his friends. He'd had a long day and a little too much to drink. He said it'll never happen again, so don't worry. I'll be fine going home. Promise," Blaine finished his speech of lies and gave Will his most dazzling smile.

"This was not your fault, Blaine. How could you possibly think that? And just how stupid do I look to you? Look at all the old scars on you! You're trying to tell me this is the first time your dad's gotten out of hand? The first time he's hit you?" Will could feel himself getting angrier by the second. At Blaine's dad mainly, but also a little bit at Blaine. He was a bright kid. He had to know it wasn't his fault. And is his dad really had promised it wouldn't happen again, than he also knew Blaine was too damn smart to believe that for one second.

Blaine's smile faltered, but he kept himself as composed as he could. "I just wanted to apologize for my unnecessary and bratty behavior. Have a nice night, Mr. Schuester," Blaine said determinedly as the doctor came back in.

"Blaine-," Will began in a strangled voice.

"Bye, Mr. Schuester."

Will knew it was futile. The boy had dismissed him and nothing he said now would get Blaine to change his mind. "Bye Blaine," He said sadly, joining the kids in the waiting room. Dejectedly, he shook his head slightly at their hopeful expressions, knowing they had been thinking Blaine was going to ask for help as well.

* * *

><p>With the all clear single from the doctor to leave the next day, Blaine felt his stress levels begin to rise. He considered asking Dr. Weiss to allow him to stay another week or so, but then he decided he'd rather just get it done and over with. He had no idea how he was going to get home from the hospital, hell, he wasn't even sure where his car was right now. He assumed it had been towed and put in the impound lot after being abandoned for more than twenty four hours, so that would be another fun task, playing hide and go seek with a Benz.<p>

He heard a knock on his door, and assumed it was a nurse or doctor, and he knew they'd just barge in anyway, so he didn't bother responding. Then there was another knock, and Blaine got irritated. "What?" He yelled.

"Blaine? It's Brittany. Can I come in?"

It took Blaine a good minute to figure out who the hell Brittany was, and when he finally placed her as one of Kurt's friends from New Directions, the one who never seemed all that bright, he considered telling her no. But then his curiosity got the best of him, because he had no idea what the hell she'd be doing here or how she'd even know he was here in the first place.

"Sure," He said after contemplating which was stronger; his desire to be left the hell alone or his inquisitiveness at his unusual visitor.

She opened the door and came in slowly, staying close to it, and fidgeting with a bag in her hands.

"You can come all the way in. Have a seat," Blaine told her, always the gentleman.

Seemingly nervous, Brittany did as suggested. But then she didn't say anything. At all. After five minutes of complete silence, Blaine felt himself getting annoyed.

"How did you know I was here?" He asked.

"Santana. I came to wait with her yesterday. But don't worry, she didn't tell anyone else, I don't think. We just don't really keep much from each other, and she didn't want to lie to me about where she'd been."

"Okay," Blaine felt a little relieved at knowing that all of Kurt's glee friends didn't know he was here, but he still had no idea what Brittany was doing here.

"Brittany? It's, uh, nice of you to visit and everything, I really do appreciate it, but we've never even exchanged one sentence to each other. So, can I ask why you're here?"

Brittany looked surprised, like she herself wasn't even sure why she'd come. "Oh. Well, when I was eleven I was in a car accident, and had to stay in the hospital for a few days. I remember being really lonely and sad. I thought you might be lonely and sad as well. So I decided to give you company and try to cheer you up!" She finished brightly, smiling.

Blaine couldn't help the small smile that played at his lips. She seemed so proud of herself, and so sure that he must want visitors, and he realized he just didn't have the heart to tell her that he'd honestly rather be by himself. "That's sweet. Thank you," He told her.

"I also brought you this," Brittany reached in the bag she held and pulled out a fuzzy white teddy bear. Then she pressed a marker on his paw and it started to light up, slowly making its way through the rainbow. "My daddy brought me one exactly like this when I was in the hospital, and it made me feel a lot better. So I got one for you, so you'd feel better," She said, looking a little shy, and holding it out towards Blaine. He didn't take it right away, and was giving her an odd look so she pulled it back slightly, mumbling, "Wow, I guess it seems stupid to bring a light up teddy bear to a seventeen year old boy, huh? Sorry, I can take it back."

Blaine felt bad when he saw that Brittany looked embarrassed, so he wiped the surprised look off his face, and smiled at her again. "No, actually it's, it's really sweet of you," He took the bear and sat it next to him on the bed. "See? Now he can chill with me on the bed and watch Sports Center with me tonight." Blaine had an idea, and hoped he wouldn't be imposing or asking too much of someone. "Brittany, do you have anything planned after school tomorrow?"

Brittany looked thrown off, and Blaine realized it probably looked like he was trying to ask her out and hit one her from his hospital bed.

"It's just, I'm supposed to be released tomorrow, and I have no idea where my car is and I could kinda use a ride home."

"Oh! Well, I have Cheerios and then Glee, but I should be done around five. Is that too late? I could be here by five thirty."

"That'd be great if you don't mind. Just, uh, could you not mention it to anyone? I know you and Santana don't keep secrets, but could you maybe just wait until after you've taken me home to tell her? That wouldn't be keeping something from her, just holding off on telling her for a bit," Blaine flashed her his winning smile, hoping for a yes.

"That would be okay I guess," She answered, after thinking for a minute.

"Thanks Brittany," Blaine replied, feeling a little better now that at least one of his problems had been solved.


	13. Feeling

_A/N: __ I know, I played with the timing of how close Westerville and Lima really are, it worked better for my timeline. (Told you, slightly AU! In this world, W and L are about a thirty minute drive from each other.) Get over it._

_**Major trigger warnings for this chapter. Read at your own risk.**_

* * *

><p>"Well, it looks like you're good to go home today, if you're sure that's what you want," Dr. Weiss gave one last feeble attempt at hinting to Blaine to not go home.<p>

"Definitely," Blaine nodded decisively.

"Do you have someone picking you up?" Dr. Weiss prayed it wasn't the boy's father.

"Yeah, my, uh, friend, Brittany said she'd be here around five."

"All right. I'll leave you to rest for now. I'll be back around four thirty for a final check and to make sure all your papers are in order for release." Dr. Weiss left his patient's room, wishing yet again that he had a way to force Blaine to be honest and not go home.

Blaine watched the doctor's retreating back, wishing that he could be honest and not go home. But that was impossible, and he knew it. The repercussions would be far greater if he was honest, so he knew he had to suck it up, be a man, and go home and deal with the consequences. And he had no doubt those consequences would be great.

_Leave me to rest. Yeah, like I'm going to be doing any resting. Sorry Doc, too busy stressing._

Blaine's eyes finally settled on the clock on the wall, and he watched the second hand tick slowly around, feeling as if it was counting down his final moments on earth.

* * *

><p>Lunchtime found Will, Puck, Santana, Finn, Brittany and Kurt eating together in the choir room. They all knew the other members of the glee club were beginning to get suspicious, especially Rachel, who couldn't stand not knowing everything. But that wasn't their main concern right now.<p>

"So he's going home today?" Puck directed the question at Kurt, who'd just hung up with Blaine.

"Yeah. He said he has a ride, so he'll call when he can after getting home."

"_If_ he can," Puck muttered angrily.

"Who is picking him up?" Will asked Kurt. Brittany was glad that everyone's eyes were trained on Kurt, since the question was directed to him, because she was a horrible liar and Santana would have seen right through her.

"He said a friend from Dalton," Kurt shrugged. "I didn't think any of them knew the situation, so maybe he spun them a tale about what happened?"

Will nodded absently, and the room lapsed back into a strained silence. Everyone was quietly pondering what would happen to Blaine when he got home. All the guys were considering going to his house, figuring his dad couldn't take on all of them, but Will had reminded them that most likely Blaine would refuse to leave his house with them, and when they eventually left it would make it that much worse for Blaine.

Kurt put down his lunch, the worry and guilt that were bubbling in his gut was making it impossible to eat. They shouldn't let Blaine go home and he knew it. Kurt had that impending sense of doom at the thought of Blaine going home. He understood that there wasn't much he and the rest of the glee club could do, they were in high school. But why couldn't the adults do more to help? Why couldn't the adults figure out some way to get Blaine's dad away from him permanently? Some way to keep Blaine safe? Between his parents, Mr. Schuester, the police, and the doctors and nurses at the hospital, Kurt just couldn't fathom why no one could do anything. They all knew Blaine was lying. Kurt found himself beginning to get angry at his teacher, his parents, the doctor, and the police.

Will started to say something, but Kurt jumped up, interrupting him and pointing an accusatory finger at his teacher. "You shouldn't be letting him go home, and you know it! You're an adult! _Do something_! Anything! He can't go home to his dad and you know that, so why aren't you doing something to help him?" Kurt might have actually stomped his foot in anger than, like a three year old having a tantrum. But this was much more serious than being denied a second chocolate chip cookie. Kurt was shaking with anger, and he turned and ran out of the choir room, ignoring the stunned silence he left behind.

Will sat in his chair, astonished, and the shook his head, rising out of his chair and following Kurt into the hallway, where he found sitting with his back against the lockers, his head buried in his knees, crying.

"Kurt," He began. "You have to understand there's nothing I can do without making the situation that much worse for Blaine. My hands are tied. I hate it as much as you, but until Blaine is willing to admit to the police what is going on, I can't do anything legally. None of us want to see Blaine go back to that pathetic excuse for a dad, but we're just as lost as to how to help him as you are."

Kurt looked up, peering at Will, an idea forming in his head. "They can't arrest his dad because they can't prove it was him, right?" Will nodded cautiously, not sure where Kurt was headed with this. Kurt plowed on. "What if there was a witness? Or multiple witnesses? What if people could testify that they saw Blaine's dad beating him? The police could arrest him then, couldn't they? Even if Blaine denied it again, wouldn't multiple testimonies contradicting him be enough proof?"

Will caught up to Kurt's line of thinking in a hurry. "That…that could actually work," He mused. "Did Blaine tell you what time he was going home today?"

"He said his friend was picking him up around nine tonight."

"Well then, I guess we need to be at his house around nine tonight, don't we? The first time we see his dad lay a hand on him, we break in and stop his father. Then we call the police."

* * *

><p>Blaine felt his stomach clench as the clock made its way towards five o'clock. He'd gone over everything with Dr. Weiss, everything was in order, and he sat in a wheelchair in the waiting room (which he was not pleased about, he could walk thank you very much) waiting on Brittany who arrived at seven after five.<p>

"Ready?" She asked brightly. Blaine nodded, giving her his best attempt at a smile. "You're in luck, I'm an expert at pushing people in wheelchairs after dating Artie." Blaine's smile became full fledged, he couldn't help it. Trust Brittany to see the most ridiculous and inane positive aspect in any given situation.

The car ride was awkward and silent, Brittany not knowing what to say, and Blaine not in the mood for chit chat.

"Wow," Brittany murmured pulling up in front of his house. "Now that's a house. Is your dad the king of Westerville or something?"

Blaine gave her a strange look, thinking she was joking at first, then suddenly not sure. She looked awfully serious. "Uh, no. He's just got plenty of money. He's the bigwig CEO at his company."

Brittany nodded. "He must make a lot of money selling those wigs."

Blaine laughed despite himself, but it wasn't mean. He knew a lot of people thought she was a dumb blonde, and maybe she wouldn't be winning any science fairs anytime soon, but she had a heart of gold and she wasn't afraid to say exactly what was on her mind. "Thanks again, Brittany. I really appreciate it."

"Yup. I'll see you soon. Call if you need anything else."

"Um, okay," Blaine was confused as to why she was so sure she'd see him soon, but it was Brittany after all, so he didn't give it a second though.

Brittany realized her mistake after Blaine got out of the car, and silently cursed herself. She'd almost blown it. She still wasn't sure why they were waiting until nine to come back over, when it wasn't even six yet and Blaine was home, but she hadn't wanted to question Mr. Schue's authority when he'd told them all to meet up near Blaine's at eight thrity.

* * *

><p>Blaine watched Brittany drive away and resisted the urge to run after her, not that he could run per say, but he suddenly really did not want to face his father. He peeked in the window of the garage and felt his heart drop into his chest. His father's shiny, cherry red convertible sat parked ominously. He was trying to figure out how much luck he'd have trying to sneak in, he'd been able to do it before, when he heard heavy footsteps behind him.<p>

"Get. In. The. House," His father told him through clenched teeth, not dumb enough to cause a scene in the driveway where someone could see. Blaine gripped the bear from Brittany in his hands, trying to gather strength from it, using it as a reminder that people at least cared. He may never be able to see them again, at least not until he was in college, but still, somewhere out there were people who actually seemed to care if he was dead or alive. It was a shame it wasn't his father that felt that way though.

Briefly, Blaine wondered what his father would do, what he would say if he refused to enter the house for him. If for once in his life he stood up to the man. But then he took in the look of barely contained murderous rage on his father's face and had a feeling that would be an extremely stupid decision. Reluctantly, he followed his father into the house.

* * *

><p><em>Where r u? U took off like a bat out of hell after Cheerios. Meet me at Breastix in ten and we can head over to meet up with everyone else later.<em> Brittany read the incoming text while she sat idling at a traffic light, and changed her turn signal from right to left. No left to right. Wait, which one is left again? She held her hands up, making L's with both of them. That didn't help at all, they both made L's and she couldn't figure out which one was backwards and which one wasn't. _Doesn't matter right now_, She scolded herself, turning in the direction of Breadstix when the light changed. She still wasn't sure if it was left or right, though.

She parked and got out of her car just as Puck and Santana pulled into the parking lot, so she stopped and waited on them.

"Where the hell did you go in such a hurry?" Santana greeted her.

"Don't be mad," Brittany pleaded. "But when I visited Blaine in the hospital last night-,"

"Wait why the hell did you visit Blaine last night? You barely know the guy," Puck intercepted.

"I wanted to give him a teddy bear and cheer him up," Brittany responded like it was obvious.

Santana smiled at that, it was just so, well, _Brittany_. Puck nodded like it made complete sense now.

"Anyways, he asked me if I could ride him home from the hospital today, and he asked if I could just wait to tell you until after the fact, so I didn't lie to you, San."

"Wait, wait, wait. Hold on. So you're on your way to get him soon, right?" Puck asked, even though he knew it was false hope.

"No. I just dropped him off half an hour ago or so. I'm not really sure why his friend from Dalton is going to get him at nine. I mean, he won't _be _there, that seems silly," Brittany said contemplatively.

"Shit!" Puck and Santana cursed simultaneously.

"So he's home. You took him home already. He's already been there for half an hour," Puck rambled.

"It'll be over an hour by the time we get there," Santana pointed out.

"How much damage could he do in an hour, you think?" Puck asked.

"I don't even want to think about it," Santana muttered.

* * *

><p>The second Blaine closed the door, his father was on him. The sickening scent of whiskey was heavy on lips as he shoved Blaine against the front door, and hissed in his ear.<p>

"You got some balls, kid. You really think anyone is going to believe some spoiled seventeen year old brat over the CEO of a multibillion dollar corporation? You've got another thought coming. I thought you understood how things worked in this household. _My _household. I'm nice enough to let you live here, and this is how you show your gratitude? You pathetic little shit!" His voice rose with each word, so that by the time he finished he was yelling with fury. And Blaine knew exactly what came next. The words stopped making full sentences, and just became one long string of insults and derogatory names. The fists came out. And Blaine was too weak and too beat up from the last time to defend himself worth a damn.

He'd thought the last time was the worst his father could get, but now he knew he was wrong. He'd never seen his father in such a blind rage before. It wasn't even words coming out of his mouth anymore as he laid into Blaine with his fists. Now it was just angry, hate and alcohol fueled screams.

At one point his father wrenched the bear out of his hands, and Blaine felt like he'd lost the only thing that had been holding him to the earth. He'd been gripping that damned bear like his life depended on it, concentrating on what it meant, and using it to keep himself grounded. Now, with his hands empty, Blaine felt himself become oddly detached from the situation. He felt his father bashing every part of him, not even concerned with not getting his face anymore. He felt it when his father yanked him away from the front door and threw him onto the glass table in the hallway. He felt it when a piece of glass entered into his left side and was only stopped by his hipbone. He felt it when his father pulled him back up, and grabbed the piece of glass, wrenching it out of Blaine. He felt it when the piece of glass was unceremoniously shoved back in, only a few centimeters from the original spot. He felt it when his father turned on the gas stove and shoved his hand in the fire, and when his father threw him on the kitchen floor and kicked him all over repeatedly. He felt it when his father burned him with his cigar in various places, and he sure as hell felt it when his father grabbed him up roughly enough to dislocate his shoulder, only to bash his head against the wall and throw him back on the ground before he started back in with the kicking, punching and screaming.

He heard it when the front door opened and Bruce and Jimmy came in. He smelled it when they opened up a brand new bottle of whiskey. He heard it when they laughed cruelly at him. He felt it when he was picked back up off the kitchen floor and dragged by his neck into his room. He felt it when his clothes were ripped from his body. He felt it as nails were raked down his back time and time again. He felt it when thumbs shoved deep into the now reopened wound on his back. He felt it when hands encircled his neck, and he felt it when he couldn't breathe. He heard the laughter that continued and he heard the names they called him. He heard them telling him he wanted it, and that it was what he deserved. He heard it when his father remarked that he didn't even deserve something as good as that. He saw it when his father stood at the doorway of his bedroom, cackling like a wicked witch while his friends ripped his son's dignity and pride from him. He felt it when Jimmy shoved in, and he felt it when Bruce shoved his head into his crotch. He felt it when they spit on him afterwards. He felt it when he was picked up off his bed and thrown against his TV. He felt it when he started to lose consciousness and he felt it as he hoped against hope that this time, he never woke back up. He felt it all. Until he didn't.

He didn't feel it. He didn't feel it. _He didn't fucking feel it._

* * *

><p><em>Any feedback on this chapter would be extremely appreciated, as I'm not sure how it came out and if I like it and am happy with it or no. I'm nervous as hell about posting it. Originally this was meant to be longer, but I'm breaking it into two chapters, because I feel like this chapter should end here. Sorry!<em>


	14. Bruises

Puck, Santana, and Brittany pulled into Blaine's driveway, and Puck parked behind Will's car. He glanced at the two unfamiliar cars in front of Will's, and got even more nervous than he already was.

After realizing what was going on, Puck had immediately called Will, and they'd all headed over directly, under Will's strict instructions not to do _anything_ if they arrived before him. But they'd ended up behind him on their way out of Lima, and the two cars had both driven like NASCAR drivers to get there as fast as possible. The clock on Puck's dashboard read six forty nine. They'd made it from Lima to Westerville in 18 minutes. Puck was pretty sure that was a record of some sort, and normally he would have patted himself on the back and helped himself to a congratulatory beer, but now was not the time for that. Kurt, Finn and Will all piled out of Will's car at the same time as Puck, Santana and Brittany, and the six of them rushed to the door.

Puck peered in through the newly replaced glass, noting that Blaine's dad sure did do some fast work in getting his repairs taken care of, and he could only pray that he didn't work quite as fast in all business he felt needed taken care of.

"I don't see anyone…," Puck's voice trailed off as his eyes grew accustomed to the dim light he could glimpse in Blaine's house. "Shit. I do see a destroyed fuckin' house though."

They all heard the sound of something crashing, and multiple voices yelling, one sounding like it was in pain, and then laughter. The laughter caused Puck's blood to run cold. He'd never heard laughter sound quite so spiteful and malignant before. For the second time that week, Puck flung a stupid, ugly, marble statue of a stupid, ugly, dumb lion through the glass at Blaine's house, and the group all scurried inside.

Will held out a hand, stopping them. "We need to catch them in the act. So we need to be quiet going up." They could all still hear the hollering and the laughter and that horrible, horrible laughter coming from upstairs, so it was assumed that whoever was up there was either too drunk, too involved in their current activities, or both to have properly heard the commotion of breaking glass and six people climbing in.

Everyone nodded their understanding to Will, even though Kurt looked close to running up the stairs and attempting to take on whoever was hurting Blaine all by himself. But this had been his idea, his plan, and he knew it might very well be the only way to ensure Blaine's safety. _If Blaine is still alive. Don't think that way! _He scolded himself immediately after thinking that. One by one, they crept silently up the stairs. Will first, then Puck, Kurt, Santana, Finn and Brittany in the back, who'd stopped at the bottom of the steps to scoop up a teddy bear off the floor. The teddy bear looked a little worse for the wear than it had when she'd dropped Blaine off. It had some blood and glass on it, which she brushed off best she could, but it still lit up when she squeezed it's paw.

Will waited until everyone was outside the open door leading to Blaine's bedroom, and everyone entered at roughly the same time. Everyone also stopped dead in their tracks at the same time. The sight that lay before their eyes was worse than any of them had imagined. Blaine lay on the floor, clad in nothing but a pair of black cotton boxers that looked pulled up rather hastily, and weren't quite all the way on. His face was such a swollen mess he was hardly recognizable and Finn couldn't help but be reminded of how Dean's face had looked at the end of Supernatural season five, when Sam as Lucifer had beat his face to a bloody pulp. He'd never understood that term before, bloody pulp, but he now understood it fully. A piece of jagged glass was jutting out of Blaine's left hip, and his body held a revolting collection of bruises, scratches, fingernail claw marks, and burns about the size of a cigar. His right hand was one, big mass of burns, scorched and blistered, so painful looking that no one could keep their eyes on it. His right arm was twisted at a funny angle, an angle it should not have been able to twist at, and his neck was filled with bruises in the shape of hands and fingerprints.

There was so much blood that no one moved. So much…wrong…about the situation, about Blaine's physical state that everyone was glued to their spots on the floor. The men, all of whom were obviously drunk and bitter, were too engaged in their sick and twisted little game that they had yet to notice their uninvited guests.

When Blaine's father brought his leg back, aiming a kick directly at Blaine's head, Kurt was snapped from his daze, and he lunged himself at the much stronger looking man.

"Don't you lay another finger on him!" He cried, grabbing him by the shirt, and pounding him with his fists. Kurt's outburst shook everyone else out of their dazes as well, and everyone jumped into action. Santana turned to Brittany, telling her to call 911 immediately, and then she launched herself into the struggles between Kurt and Blaine's dad. Will had grabbed one of the other men from where he'd been about to twist the glass in Blaine's side and sucker punched him in the jaw, shoving him against the wall, easily overpowering the other man, who may have been bigger and stronger, but was also a lot more clumsy in his drunken stupor than a sober Will. Finn and Puck took a hold of the other man, throwing their own set of punches.

The commotion was astounding and overbearing. No one could understand anything that was being said or done, until finally Will got his glee kids to listen to him. "Don't stoop to their levels any longer, guys. We can't have them trying to pin anything on us. Just hold them off best you can until the ambulance and police arrive."

At the word police the other three men sobered up a little and realized what was going on. Then they began struggling to get free even more. Brittany had left the room so the operator could understand her, and she came back in to find Blaine's dad close to fighting his way from Kurt and Santana's grip. Will had his man under decent control, and Puck and Finn weren't having too much of an issue with the guy they had, so Brittany helped out Kurt and Santana. All of them wanted nothing more than to drop down beside Blaine and see if he was breathing, but they had no people to spare.

That didn't much matter to Kurt, though, who's main concern was Blaine. "Brittany, can you check on Blaine? Please? See if he has a pulse?" He pleaded desperately.

Brittany looked torn, since she could see that Kurt and Santana could use her help, but the pain in Kurt's eyes forced her to do as he asked. She dropped down onto her knees next to Blaine, and gingerly felt around his bruised neck for signs of life.

"Th-there's a pulse. It' weak and slow, but it's there," She finally said to the relief of everyone. Brittany tried to wake Blaine, even though she knew it would be ineffective. "Blaine?" She asked softly, brushing the hair out of his eyes. "Blaine are you awake?"

He didn't respond, so Brittany took the teddy bear she still had clutched in her hand, and placed it near his good hand. "I found our bear," She whispered sadly, as she pulled his boxers up the rest of the way.

Blaine stirred, and his hand gripped the soft fur of the teddy bear, right on it's paw, causing it to start lighting the room with the rainbow colors that seemed so out of place at a time like this. His eyes fluttered open, and searched the room, finally settling on Brittany who kneeled over him. "I can't feel it," He told her in ragged voice, before his eyes closed again and he slipped back into his precious cocoon of unfeeling and unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>It was essentially a madhouse when the police and paramedics arrived on the scene. Will still held Bruce against the wall, Puck and Finn still had Jimmy in a headlock, and Brittany had reluctantly left Blaine to help Santana and Kurt with Blaine's dad. The police quickly snapped handcuffs on the three struggling men, and took them outside, telling the others not to go anywhere, that they needed statements. The paramedics dropped down to Blaine and got quickly to work.<p>

Will went over to Kurt and Brittany, who looked the most shook up and put a comforting arm around both their shoulders.

"Is he going to be okay?" Kurt asked, afraid of the answer.

"I honestly don't know, kid," Answered one of the EMTs, without bothering to turn from the task at hand.

Kurt's shoulders shook with silent sobs, and Will handed him off to Santana, and motioned at Finn to step into the hallway with him.

"Why don't you call your mom, let her know what's going on, see if her and Kurt's dad can meet us at the hospital."

Finn nodded, already reaching for his phone and scrolling through the contacts list.

"Sir?"

Will looked up and saw the same police officers he talked to at the hospital earlier that week.

"Do you know of any relatives we can contact? Anyone of blood relation to the boy?"

Will shook his head. "His mother passed away, and none of us really know much about him. I'm sorry," Will replied.

The police nodded solemnly, and stepped aside to allow the paramedics to take the stretcher with Blaine on it by. "All right. We'll figure it out. Listen, I know you and these kids are anxious to get to the hospital and hear how he is, but we really need all of you to remain on the scene until we get statements from everyone."

Will nodded, and grabbed Kurt who was dead set on following the paramedics out. "Kurt, we can't go over quite yet. The whole reason we did this was so we could give witness statements to the police and it will discredit us just a bit if we leave the scene."

Kurt looked torn. On one hand, of course he didn't want to ruin the chances of getting Blaine away from his dad, but on the other how the hell was he supposed to concentrate on anything right now other than whether Blaine was alive or not. He faltered, watching the paramedics take the stretcher out the door before giving a small, sad nod. "Okay, Mr. Schuester."

He walked over and sat on the top step, resting his chin in his hand, trying to think positive, but failing miserably. Brittany and Santana soon joined him, each putting an arm around his shoulders, and the trio sat there in silence, with everyone lost in their own thoughts. Brittany had the bear back again, since the paramedics had pried it out of Blaine's grasp, and she handed it to Kurt, who gave her an odd look, but too it anyway, hugging it to his chest. Will joined Finn and Puck back in Blaine's bedroom, where Finn informed him he'd talked to his parents and they said they'd meet them at the hospital.

Out of the window, Puck watched the swirling red and blue lights of the police cars, and he watched as the ambulance pulled out of the driveway. He was itching to hit something or someone, and he was glad the three men were locked safely away in the cop cars, about to be carted off to the station where he hoped they'd rot in jail.

* * *

><p>Blaine was panicking. He had no idea where he was, and it was pitch black. He could not see a single thing, and he could not find a light switch, no matter how long he wandered around the dark room, feeling along every inch of the walls. He didn't even remember how he got here…wherever <em>here<em> was.

After what felt like hours of stumbling around, he knocked into a heavy object that he was pretty sure hadn't been there before. He slowly explored the object, running his hands over it until he realized what it was. A television. He figured that if he turned the TV on, it would probably cast some light in the room, so he felt around until he found buttons, pressing each one until finally the TV flickered on. The sound of static filled the room, and even though it was snow on the screen, and not an actual picture, it did what he'd hoped. He surveyed his surroundings, trying to place where he was. The room he was in was small, tiny, in fact; no bigger than twelve square feet, and the brick walls were painted a stark black. The floor was cold, hard cement, no rugs or carpet in sight. He looked for a door, but didn't see one. That was impossible, though. He had to have gotten in here somehow, so he looked up, assuming there would be some type of door like the one that led to the attic in his house, with a string he could pull down, and a ladder attached. No such luck. He looked helplessly at the cement floor, and found no door or way out there, either. He was trapped.

His panic rose ever so slightly at this realization. Ever since his father had locked him in a closet for nine hours when he was six he'd been just a little bit claustrophobic. He was just about to start yelling for help when the snow on the TV changed to an image. It looked to be a badly made home movie that played out on the screen, and he went over and stood directly in front f it, curious as to what it was, and who had turned it on.

The static that had been thrumming through the room just moments ago had given way to another sound. A sound of a voice that was all too familiar to Blaine. Blaine froze, unable to tear his eyes away from the images that played across the screen, unable to block the horrible voice that filled his ears.

Blaine watched the man on the television screen as he continuously struck his own son, and he listened to the man calling his son worthless and stupid. Telling him that this was his fault, and it didn't matter if he ended up dead, because no one would care. The memories flooded into his brain, and he couldn't remember which stung worse, the fists or the words.

Blaine was finally able to force himself to turn around, and was surprised that an illuminated, full length mirror had appeared behind him. He stood stock still, taking in his own appearance, something he rarely did unless he was fully clothed, but right now all he had on was a pair of black boxers. His face was barely recognizable, covered in a mass of bruises and dried blood, as was most of his body. He saw a piece of glass sticking out of his left side, and gritted his teeth before reaching down and yanking it out. That's when he noticed yet another thing that wasn't quite right. He didn't feel it at all when he pulled it out. Now that he thought about, he didn't feel anything. He knew he should be in pain, and he had no idea why he wasn't. He noticed the images in the TV screen changing in the mirror, and couldn't stop himself from turning around. The scene had changed from the living room to his bedroom and there were two new characters in the twisted home movie. With an almost morbid fascination, Blaine watched as they held a knife near his groin and forced him to beg for it. He listened to the names they called him, which differed drastically from the names his father called him, but both sets of names still managed to tear into the teenager's mind, and build a little nest there, repeating themselves to him, over and over again until Blaine couldn't stand it anymore. _Sticks and stones can break your bones, but words can hurt like hell._

It all got to be too much for Blaine, who turned around with surprising agility for someone in his shape and punched his fist through the mirror behind him, sending shards of glass flying every which way. He turned back towards the TV, unable to handle watching or listening to the gruesome scene anymore, and he put his fist through the TV, as well. But unlike the mirror, the TV didn't shatter. It didn't even spider web. It was like he hadn't touched it. He hit a few more times to no avail, before he began frantically searching for the buttons. He hit all of them, but none of them did anything. The channel wouldn't change, the sound wouldn't mute, the TV wouldn't turn off. With every ounce of energy in him, Blaine began attacking the TV, but it was as if it was made of the same cement as the floor it sat on. He couldn't even scratch it. Blaine had no clue how long he continued his assault on the TV before he fell to the ground exhausted, where he curled up into himself, burying his head in his arms and slapping his hands over his ears, yelling for someone, anyone to make it stop, to turn it off, to rescue him.

* * *

><p>Burt Hummel and his wife, Carole arrived at the hospital first, searching for their sons until Carole's phone vibrated, alerting her to an incoming text.<p>

"Finn and Kurt are still at Blaine's house, giving their testimonies to the police," Carole must have paraphrased the text to Burt, because he highly doubted his step son, God bless him, could spell the word testimonies, even with auto correct, much less knew what it meant.

Burt nodded, and walked up to the nurse's station. "Excuse me I'm looking for any information on Blaine Anderson? He should have been admitted recently?"

The nurse looked up, and held up one finger indicating for him to wait while she searched the database on the computer.

"I'm sorry, sir, it looks like Blaine Anderson has already been discharged."

"Yes, earlier today, I know. But he should have just been re-admitted," Burt explained impatiently. He felt Carole grab a tight hold of his upper arm, and he turned to her. "What is it?" He asked, following her eyes to where they were watching a pair of EMTs bring in a stretcher.

"Shit. That's not…" Burt stopped talking when he realized it was actually his son's friend. At least, he thought it was. It was hard to be positive who was truly under all of the bruises, cuts and blood.

The husband and wife watched as a doctor and a couple nurses rushed over to the stretcher, yelling things about surgery, and operating rooms, about blood loss and head trauma, and about a million other medical terms that Burt had never heard anywhere outside of those stupid hospital dramas Carole made him watch with her.

"How is he alive?" Burt asked his wife.

Carole glanced at him with sadness in her eyes, and gave a small shrug. "I'm not sure, but when Kurt get's here, I suggest you refrain from saying things like that within his ear shot."

Burt knew his wife was right, like always, so he shut his mouth, and they followed Blaine's stretcher down the hall.

They were stopped outside of the room, and asked to wait in the adjoining waiting area, where they sat, waited, and prayed.

* * *

><p>When the detectives finally gave them the clear to leave, Kurt was the first one in the car and Puck was surprised to see him in his car and not Will's.<p>

"You're not quite as concerned with breaking the speed limit," Kurt gave as way of explanation.

Puck gave a wry grin, and waited on Brittany and Santana to get in before he rolled down his window and told Will and Finn they'd meet them there. He put the car in reverse, backed out of the driveway for what he hoped was the last time, and took off down the road, telling Kurt to keep his eyes peeled for cops so they didn't have to waste time with getting pulled over.

The second he pulled into a parking space, Kurt's door flew open, as did Brittany's and Santana's, and Puck had to hurry to catch up with the trio.

Thanks to a text from Carole sent to both Kurt and Finn, they knew exactly where they were going, and Kurt had never been happier to see his own dad when they got to the waiting room.

"Dad," He cried, as Burt enveloped him in a fierce hug.

"I know, kid. I know," Burt tried to soothe his distraught son.

Kurt pulled away after a few minutes, and searched his dad's eyes for a hint of Blaine's condition. "Is he… Have they…"

"We don't know anything yet, Kurt. They took him into surgery about an hour ago, right as we got here. And we may not know anything for quite some time. Remember, they won't be able to tell any of us a whole lot, we aren't family," Burt gently reminded him.

"Well they have to tell someone," Kurt protested. "Blaine doesn't really have any family. So how does that work?"

"I don't know, Kurt," Burt told him.

Finn and Will arrived a few minutes after the others, and everyone sat down to the only thing they could. Wait and hope.

* * *

><p>When Blaine finally got the nerve to look around he noticed his surroundings had changed again. He was in his bedroom, but it was decorated as it had been when he was five years old. And the door was missing. He was not a fan of this new trend of waking up in rooms without doors. Instead of the door there was a maroon seat that looked like it had been taking from a movie theater. The second he sat down in the seat he was suddenly not alone in the room.<p>

His five year old self was in the middle of the room, drawing diligently with broken crayons on a piece of scrap paper. "Look what I drew!" Young Blaine exclaimed.

At first, Blaine thought he was talking to him, and he was about to answer when someone else appeared in the room. It was a younger, slightly less drunk version of his father. Blaine began to scramble in the movie theater seat, but he couldn't get out of it. He couldn't shut his eyes either and he was forced to watch the scene play out.

"It's mommy!" Young Blaine said with a big smile, looking pleased with himself, and showing his father the paper.

His father scoffed, and grabbed the paper from his small son's hands, tearing it into pieces. "Your mommy is dead. She couldn't stand having such a spoiled little brat for a son, so she killed herself, remember, you idiot?"

Young Blaine's face crumpled and tears began to leak from his eyes, which only angered his father further.

"What are you crying about? She didn't love you. No one loves you. Who in their right mind could love such a stupid, pathetic child?"

"Sh-sh-she did so love me!" Wailed the child. "She told me all the time!"

Whatever patience the older Anderson had left disappeared, and he took his belt off, striking the little boy with it across the back of his shoulder blades with the buckle side. "No. One. Loves. You!" Each word was punctuated with another strike with the belt, until the child was curled in a ball on the floor trying to shield himself. With a disgusted snarl, his father disappeared, and it was just the two versions of Blaine left in the room.

Blaine looked at himself, lying defeated on the floor, and found he could get out of the seat now. He crouched down next to the boy, shushing him, and telling him that if he kept up the crying it would just spur his father to come back and make it that much worse.

He put his hand under the little boy's chin, and waited until the hysterical sobs had dwindled to a silent cry, accented with hiccups.

He looked into his own eyes, and waited until he had the by's full attention. "Don't listen to him, okay? Mom hated him, not you. Mom killed herself because of him, not you, okay?"

Young Blaine slapped his hand away, and stood up, yelling at his future self. "What do you know about it? Just leave me alone!"

Blaine reached back towards the child, only for his hand to connect with empty space. Once again he was alone in the room. He picked up all that was left to indicate a kid had been in the room with him, a crudely drawn picture of a beautiful, olive skinned woman. He knew right away who it was, but he also knew the kid hadn't bothered to draw their mom as she actually had been. Missing were the bruises and scars, the same ones he himself had, and missing was the desperate, helpless look in her eyes. As a tear drop fell onto the picture, the lights began to dim, and the scene began to change once again.


	15. Comatose

_A/N: Okay first off, in the hope of thwarting any potential criticism to my medical terminology and such, I have no damned clue what I'm talking about and I know it. I did some research and drew from some of my own experiences, but it's all still a load of bs, most likely. I said it before, and I'll say it again. This is depicted as an "AU" fanfic for a reason. So in the universe, guess what? All that medical mumbo jumbo is accurate. Deal with it. As for how I chose which hospital Blaine was at, I used Google maps, and just went with whichever hospital was the shortest distance from Westerville, because, well, it made sense. Shut up. I looked up the name for the children's services in Westerville, as well, so that part is accurate. Obviously, again, AU, I took many liberations with how the process of placing Blaine under adult guardianship would go. I make no claims that any of this is correct or legal in the real world. Oh, um, also in this chapter, you may notice that it seems like Dr. Weiss just doesn't ever fuckin' leave the hospital and go home, so let's operate on the theory that in this universe, doctors and such just don't need sleep and don't have families and never leave the hospital, k? K. Holy long author's note, Batman. Luckily for you all, it will also be followed by the longest chapter to date. Yay! There was originally two more sections that were going to be in this chapter, but I felt it needed to end where I ended it, so those two sections are being worked into chapter 16. I also feel I should point out, for those of you who have not gathered this yet, in STS, Kurt never attended Dalton. He visited it to spy o the Warblers still, but he never actively left WMHS for DA._

_Also, I know this is labeled with Blaine and Puck as the main characters, and right now it may seem as if it's becoming more Will than Puck. This is intentional, I know what I'm doing, it is partially mapped out, I promise. If you can all just hold on a little longer, I assure you, Puck will become a more prominent character again._

_Enjoy, and as always, reviews, feedback, praise, con-crit, etc. are most certainly encouraged and appreciated!_

_**Warnings for this chapter: Contains semi-graphic depictions of noncom. Please tread carefully, only you know your own limits. If you do not want to read those scenes, than please skip sections 5 and 7 of this chapter.**_

* * *

><p>When one is born, their mind is a tabula rasa, or a blank slate. At birth, there are no rules in the human mind for processing data, no sense of right and wrong. One is not born with built-in mental content. Each individual has the ability to define the content of their character, and to do whatever they can to fight one's own innate evil. Their mind, thoughts, feelings, self worth, beliefs, and perception of the world is shaped by what they see and by what they hear every day. If they see evil, so they will speak evil, so they will perform evil acts. If they see compassion and kindness, their lives and actions will reflect that compassion and kindness. If a child sees a parent beating the other parent, they will begin to think that this is acceptable, that this is the way things are supposed to go. When a son sees his mother allowing his father to hit her and to degrade her, then that son will think it is what a father is supposed to do. And when that father begins to hit that son as well, the son will do the only thing he has been taught is right, which is to quietly accept it, and allow it to happen. To cover up the bruises, the welts, the burns. To lie to protect the man that breaks them down day after day, night after night. When a young child is told time after time that they are worthless, that they are unlovable, that they don't matter, than that is exactly what that young child will believe to be true. Even though it is not.<p>

* * *

><p>Dr. Weiss took one last look at his returning patient, and closed the door behind himself, running a hand through his hair and resenting the fact that he wouldn't be able to give everyone in the waiting room the answers they wanted.<p>

He walked into the waiting room, and eight grim faces turned to him expectantly. He wished he could give them all the details, in his eyes they deserved them. He didn't see any family who had been sitting in the waiting room for close to eight hours. He hadn't seen any family in here pretending to care the last time Blaine had been here. But hospital policy and doctor patient confidentiality blocked him from giving the group of tired looking people much information to go on.

"Well?" Kurt asked the doctor after he stood there staring at them for a minute.

"As you all know, I can't tell you everything I'd like to. What I can tell you though is that he's in critical condition, and we're not out of the woods yet."

"That doesn't tell us anything," Kurt pointed out, trying to keep his temper under control. He had half a mind to strangle the doctor until he got the answers he wanted.

"You gave us more information than that last time," Puck added.

Dr. Weiss sighed. "Yes, I know, and I shouldn't have. I could lose my job and my medical license over that. Until the police and child services come to some sort of solution, or unless some unexpected family member shows up, I'm afraid I can not tell you more."

"Well is he awake? Can we see him?" Kurt asked in a slightly bitchy tone which got him a look from his dad, Carole, and Mr. Schuester.

"No, he's hasn't awoken yet. I'm sorry. I suggest you all go home and sleep, and when Blaine wakes up, if he gives me the okay, I will contact one of you, all right?"

Everyone started to nod except for Kurt and Puck.

"No, that's not okay," Puck said, standing up. "It's not okay at all. It's four in the godamn morning, we've been here since eight, we were the ones who saved him from, let's be honest here, being beaten to death, and we deserve some fuckin' answers on his condition!" Puck had the attention of everyone within earshot now, but he didn't really care.

"Puck," Will said in a warning tone.

Puck glared at his teacher. "What? We have a right to know, dammit!"

Dr. Weiss interjected. "I agree. You do have a right to know. But unfortunately, I can't tell you. Look, I understand, it's been a long night for all of you, and you're all on edge. But the best thing right now is for everyone to go home and get some sleep so that if this young man wakes up you'll all be refreshed and not quite so, well, irritable, and you can come visit him and give him the support he's going to need."

"If?" Kurt squeaked out.

Dr. Weiss immediately realized his mistake and quickly tried to back pedal. "When. When he wakes up," He corrected himself.

"But that's not what you said. You said _if_," Kurt accused.

"Blaine has sustained serious head trauma, and I can't guarantee he will awaken any time in the near future," Dr. Weiss admitted.

Kurt's shoulders slumped, and he knew what the doctor was saying. He was not only uncertain when Blaine would wake up, but he wasn't positive that Blaine even _would_ wake up.

"Can you at least tell us if he's woken up at all since he was brought in?" Kurt managed to ask, fighting back yet another wave of tears.

"No. He hasn't. We put him under before performing surgery though, so technically, this is normal."

"Why only technically?"

Again, Dr. Weiss kicked himself for not choosing his words more carefully. Apparently this Kurt kid picked up on a lot. "He should have awoken from the drugs about four hours ago. When he didn't, we performed an MRI and an EEG on him, to check his brain activity. I haven't gotten the conclusive results yet, but his brain and body have yet to react to any of the different methods of stimuli we've used."

"So what you're saying is he isn't asleep, he's in a damn coma," Kurt put into simpler turns to the relief of Finn and Brittany, who both had glassed over eyes about the time Dr. Weiss had said MRI.

"Not, exactly. To be precise, he's still considered merely unconscious."

"I don't understand," Kurt stated plainly.

"When someone is unconscious as opposed to in a coma, their body and their brain activity will respond to stimulation in many forms. Lights, sounds, pain and so forth. However, according to the books, someone is not considered in an actual comatose state until they've been unconscious for at least six hours. So while his brain activity suggests a coma, the time frame is still strictly unconscious," Dr. Weiss explained patiently.

"But you said he hasn't woken up since he got here. So that's longer than six hours," Puck pointed out.

"Yes. But we used anesthesia to put him farther under to ensure he would not wake up in the middle of surgery. So the clock, if you will, has been reset to the time when we began trying to rouse him from his state of unconsciousness," Dr. Weiss cleared up.

"So basically what you're saying is in about two hours if Blaine's still out cold, then he'll be officially in a coma," Kurt's bitchy voice was back, and he was once again getting the looks from all of the adults.

"Well, for the most part, yes. Now, I've told you more than I should have. Again. So please. If there's any change, I will break hospital policy and contact you, Mr. Schuester, but I'm politely asking you all to go home for now and sleep. You can come back tomorrow if you feel the need, but for now, you won't be doing Blaine any favors by being worn out and agitated if he wakes up." Dr. Weiss walked away after asking Will to leave his contact information at the nurse's station for him.

"All right, guys. The doctor has been more than patient, and more than kind, so why don't we do as asked. Kurt, I promise, if I hear anything at all you'll be the first to know," Will added hastily before Kurt could even ask.

Everyone nodded solemnly, and Kurt and Finn left with their parents, Will took off alone, and Puck, Brittany and Santana piled back into his car. Since it was so late, or early depending how you looked at it, Santana and Brittany decided to sleep over at Puck's so he didn't have to take Brittany to Breadstix to get her car or take Santana home. They'd all contacted their parents earlier to let them know where they were and what was going on, but the girls both sent quick texts out again, letting them know they were leaving and staying over at Puck's so they wouldn't worry.

* * *

><p>Once again, Blaine slowly took in his surroundings, noting that he was in his father's room. That in and of itself was odd, he couldn't remember ever being allowed in his father's room. He glanced around, noting that the door was, of course, not there. Something else was off too, but it took him a few minutes to place it. This wasn't his father's room as it was now, this was his parent's room. This was how it had looked when his mom was alive. Actually, now that he really thought about it, this was exactly how their room had looked the very last time he'd been here when he'd found…<p>

Sure enough. As he expected, when he looked at the king size bed, his mom was laying there, on top of the covers, in her pajamas. On the nightstand next to her was an empty bottle of prescription sleeping pills and an empty bottle of vodka. "Mom," He murmured, stumbling over to the bed. "Momma, wake up. Mom, please," He shook her but she didn't stir. "Mom, I need you. You can't do this to me. Don't you see how much worse it got after you left me? Mom, you left me all alone with that monster! How-how could you do that. Didn't you love me? You had to know what would happen to me without you here. Why couldn't you have stuck it out? I was just a kid!" Blaine found himself getting angry with his mom. Angrier than he'd ever been. "You were the adult! Why did you leave me alone with him? Why didn't you just fuckin' do something? You should have gotten us out of this house! You should have stuck it out for me! Your son! But instead you took the easy way out. You-you got out." Blaine's voice softened. "You got out, Mom. But what about me? I was five. I had nowhere to go, no one left to protect me. He got so much worse after you left. There were never any good days. Do you know what it's like to be five years old and get kicked in the stomach because you spilled a glass of juice? Mom, please. Please come back. I needed you. I still need you."

Blaine crawled into bed and laid down next to his mom, curling into her. "Mommy," He whispered, clutching at her shirt, and burying his face in it, softly weeping.

* * *

><p>Will hadn't gotten home until five in the morning, and by the time he finally passed out from sheer exhaustion it was close to six thirty, so he was none too pleased to hear the sound of his cell phone at ten o'clock. Groggily, he sat up, rubbing at his eyes, fumbling for his phone on the dresser. "'Lo," He answered sleepily.<p>

"Mr. Will Schuester?"

"Mhm," He replied.

"Mr. Schuester, my name is Ruth, I'm a social worker at Franklin Count Children's Services, and I've been assigned to the case of a Mr. Blaine Anderson. I understand you know him?"

Will was suddenly wide awake. "Oh! Uh, yes, yes, I know Blaine."

"Great. I was wondering if we would be able to meet up at your earliest convenience? I need to speak with you about a few matters regarding Mr. Anderson."

"Yes, sure. Just tell me a time and a place."

"Why don't we meet at Riverside Methodist Hospital where our young friend resides? Say about an hour from now? In the cafeteria? Can you be here by then?"

"Yeah, yes, of course. I'll, uh, I'll see you then."

Will hung up his phone, and got out of bed quickly, deciding to forgo a shower so he had time to make coffee to take with him. He got dressed in a hurry, poured some coffee in a to-go cup, and rushed out the door.

He got to Riverside about fifteen minutes early, and he realized he probably would have had time for a shower after all, and that the social worker may have appreciated it if he had done so, but he shook off the thought, and sat a table near the entrance.

He was taking a sip of his coffee, when a woman strode up to him, her hair pulled back in a severe bun and her high heels clicking on the hard floor. "Mr. Schuester?"

"Yes. Ms, uhm," He couldn't remember her last name and wasn't sure if she'd told him or not.

"Lindsay. Ruth Lindsay. I recognize you from the McKinley school districts website. I did a little bit of research on you before I contacted you," She explained, sliding into the seat across from him, and placing a briefcase on the floor next to her. She pulled out a thin folder, a legal pad, and a pen, before turning her gaze upon Will.

"Let's get right down to business, shall we? First off, can you explain to me exactly how it is you know Mr. Anderson?"

"Well, I run the glee club at my school, and one of my students, Kurt, is friends with him," For some reason Will felt like he was under investigation, but he chalked it up to the social worker's business like attitude and stern facial features.

"Very well. So you met Blaine through Kurt how long ago?"

"Well, the first time I saw Blaine would actually have been at Sectionals for the show choir competition last year. He is a member of the show choir at his private school, Dalton Academy. He and Kurt became friends a little bit before that when Kurt made an attempt to spy on the Warbler's practicing, which I didn't know about until after the fact," Will rushed to add. "Um, anyways, I guess he and Blaine hit it off and formed something of a friendship. It was probably just a few weeks after Sectionals that I actually met and talked to Blaine for the first time."

"So essentially, you have known Blaine for about a year?" Ruth summed up. Will confirmed this, and Ruth got to her next question. "When did you first get suspicious of what was going on between him and his father?"

"Earlier this week. Monday, actually. Wow, I can't believe it's only been," Will counted in his head, "Five days. It feels like a lot longer."

"Okay why don't you walk me slowly through everything that has happened since Monday and lead us right up to today?"

Will launched into the story, pausing to confirm facts, dates, and times with the social worker when needed.

Ruth took notes throughout the whole recount, stopping him when she needed. When will got to the end of the chain of events, she placed the pen on the table, rubbed her temples, and sat back in her chair.

"Let's get to why I've really asked you to meet here, Mr. Schuester. From my conversations and interviews with the detectives and with Dr. Weiss, and with the nurses and the therapist that have seen Mr. Anderson, I've come to the conclusion that, as far as anyone can tell, his father is the only family this boy has. We've looked into the matter, and it appears Blaine's mother passed away when he was four, he has no sibling, his father and mother were both only children as well, and both sets of his grandparents have since deceased."

Will nodded, wishing she'd get to the point.

"This doesn't sit well with me or my director at FCCS, obviously. Mr. Anderson is still a minor for," She consulted a paper in her folder briefly. "Another four months. Which means, he needs somewhere to go when he leaves here. He needs an adult who is willing to take care of him, since his state, both physically and mentally is yet to be determined. With his history and everything that has happened recently, I fear placing him in the care of a foster family whom he's never met would not be ideal. I'm not sure it would be wise to send him to someone he doesn't know.

"We also run into the issue that there needs to be someone of legal guardianship who can make decision for his medical treatment. And the fact that he is currently in a coma now, makes this an even more pressing matter, as we can not consult with him directly as to what his wishes are." She stopped, and looked directly at Will, who shifted in his seat under her scrutiny.

"Okay," Will replied slowly, urging her to finish and get to the point.

"Mr. Schuester, this is a bit, well, unorthodox, shall we say. This is not how we normally do things, but due to extenuating circumstances, my director and I believe our best option right now is to, bend the rules a bit, if you will." She took a breath before continuing, making sure she had Will's full attention. "Mr. Schuester, we would like to know if you would be interested in allowing us to place Blaine into your care. Of naming you Mr. Anderson's legal guardian until his 18th birthday."

Will was stunned. Maybe he should have seen it coming, but he hadn't. He hadn't been expecting this at all. But still, his response was obvious to himself and required no thought. "Yes."

Ruth gave a small smile the first one Will had seen since she'd arrived. "You can take a day or so to think about it if you need. To make sure you're ready for this type of responsibility."

"No, I don't need to. Blaine needs someone now, not in a day or two. If you're asking, I'm accepting. Where do I sign?"

Ruth's smile grew. "Wonderful. As soon as the documents are signed and notarized, everything will be legal, and you can go get a full report from Dr. Weiss on Mr. Anderson's condition."

* * *

><p>Blaine squeezed his eyes shut, afraid to open them and see where he'd been transported to this time.<p>

"Blaine, be a good boy and say hello to my friends."

Blaine's eyes flew open at the sound of his name coming out of that asshole's mouth. He rarely heard his father call him by his actual name.

He was no longer curled in a bed next to his mother. He was now in the living room, watching himself at age fourteen give a nervous and stuttering hello to his father's two new drinking buddies, Jimmy and Bruce.

"I have some business to attend to today, I'm leaving them to babysit you, since we all know you can't be trusted by yourself. They're in charge. You are to do whatever they tell you, no questions asked or there will hell to pay, do we have an understanding?"

"Yes, sir," He heard the younger version of himself respond.

His father left the room then, and Blaine could do nothing but watch yet another horrific childhood memory of his play out in front of his eyes, with no way to escape, no way to stop it.

"Get us another beer boy," The one called Bruce told him.

Blaine nodded, scurrying out of the room, and reappearing a few seconds later with two cold beers in his hand, which he handed to them.

"Ah, good, you do take direction well. That will make things much easier," Bruce gave a pitiless laugh, and before Blaine knew what was happening he had freed himself from his pants and was shoving Blaine down into his crotch. "Suck," He said simply.

Blaine stammered, and then clamped his mouth shut, shaking his head vigorously.

"I'm sorry, did I fuckin' stutter? Open your godamned mouth and suck my cock my you useless little piece of shit!"

Blaine continued to refuse, until Jimmy leaned down next to him, whispering in his ear, "If you like having your dick attached to your body, you'll do as we say." He took out a small, but sharp, pocket knife, and traced a line from Blaine's chest down towards his groin, circling around Blaine's crotch.

Blaine gave an involuntary shudder, and opened his mouth doing as requested.

"Just remember, no teeth," Bruce reminded him, smiling nastily.

* * *

><p>Will arrived back at the hospital from the notary public, having signed all the correct documents to make himself the legal guardian of Blaine.<p>

He quickly sought out Dr. Weiss, handing him copies of the papers, and asking for an update and full report on his new dependent.

Dr. Weiss was plenty happy to provide it to Will, glad that there was finally someone to make decisions, someone who he could talk to about the kid's condition without worrying about the ramifications.

"Well, first off, Blaine is still unconscious, and we've received the results to the EEG and the MRIs we ran. Now, if we're to go by the GCS, or the Glasgow Coma Scale, Blaine scored a three, which is as high as you can get, and is considered to be in a deep state of unconsciousness. As for the scoring, that would obviously indicate he received a one for all three elements of the scale, Eyes, Verbal and Movement. Or to put it in slightly plainer terms, he responded in no way to any amount of varied stimuli we tried. His eyes did not open to pain or voices, he is making no sound, either comprehensible or otherwise, and there has been no movement from him, either in response to stimuli or involuntary spasms.

"Now, while his brain is, in fact, operating at the lowest level right now, none of the results we have assessed from the tests we ran indicate severe brain damage. I can't guarantee when he will wake up and what his mental state and condition merely in direct result to his head trauma will be upon his awakening, but the fact that he is not brain dead is certainly a good sign."

"So what you're saying is Blaine could open his eyes five minutes from now and be perfectly fine or…?" Will let it trail off into an open ended question.

"Or he could wake up five minutes from now and have to be re-taught actions as simple as how to use silverware, or he could wake up two weeks from now in either of those conditions, or for all we know it could be months or years from now. Comatose patients are a tricky thing. Science has yet to discover a way to wake someone from a coma, and in a case such as Blaine's, we can not even beyond a reason of a doubt deduce whether his mind has entered into a comatose state from the severe head injuries he received, or if it was brought about because his mind simply could not handle the mental pain and process the data of what was happening to him and why any longer, or if it is a combination of both. My guess would be a combination, because I believe in a way that Blaine's mind is trying to, shield him, if you will, from what has happened to him. We have no idea and no way of knowing when and in what medical and mental state Blaine will wake up. I wish I could give you more than that, but the science is just not advanced enough to allow me to do so yet."

"Okay," Will followed along as best he could. "When you talk about his mental state when he wakes up, what do you mean exactly? What complications could arise there?"

"As I touched on before, when Blaine does regain consciousness, whenever that might be, he could be perfectly fine. He could also awake and be fine as far remembering the use of his motor skills and his memory, but still have the threat of posttraumatic stress disorder, or PTSD. Or he could even awake and have basically everything that could possibly cause complications in his healing arise. We will not know for certain until he does, in fact, awake. We can not even begin to speculate as to how good or bad any of it would be, are hands in this area are simply tied until we can speak directly to a conscious Blaine."

Will nodded, It wasn't what he wanted to hear, but he also did not want false hope, so it looked like only time would tell. "Is there anything we can do to coax him out of the coma?"

"The best thing you and this boy's friends can do right now, is to visit with him as much as possible and to act as if everything is normal. I understand that, especially for the other kids, it will be difficult to see Blaine in this state, but it is believed that some coma patients can still hear and understand their surroundings and what is going on. Some dream. Right now, if Blaine can hear anyone, it will be almost as if he is lost in a maze, and he is trying to find his way out. So speak to him, talk to him, act like he is awake and an active participant in the conversation and maybe he will be able to follow the sound of familiar voices out of that maze. The worst thing any of you can do is to be distraught or upset while you are in that room with him. If he hears that, he will most likely retreat back into that maze. So I will ask that if you or anyone else you allow in to visit him feels that they are losing their composure, to please leave the room until you have calmed yourself down. I know it will be hard, but try to be happy, upbeat and positive while visiting with him. Talk in cheerful tones, relay any good news from your day, if he watches any sports tell him how his favorite teams are doing, if you know his favorite bands, play their music for him."

"All right. Physically, what other injuries has Blaine suffered?"

"Blaine's other injuries are extensive, and will most likely require months of rehabilitation, even if he were to waken two minutes from now. Obviously, there is the severe head trauma. His left cheekbone has been shattered, his collarbone is broken, we had to relocate his right shoulder which had been dislocated, and his right elbow was shattered as well. He has seven cracked ribs, a broken left ankle and a shattered left kneecap, three broken toes on his right foot, and many various small sprains and strained body parts. His right hand suffered fourth degree burns, and we're lucky we did not have to amputate it as we originally thought we might need to. The burn extended through the skin, through the subcutaneous tissue and into the underlying muscle and bone. It required surgical excision of most of the hand other than the bone and some of the muscle and significant skin grafting was necessary. I can't guarantee that even though we did not have to amputate it, that it will be of much good to him anymore though. I can guarantee that if he's right handed he will need to learn to write with his left hand, because there Is no way he will be able to perform tasks like that with his right anytime in the near future, if ever. "

Dr. Weiss gave Will a moment to process the onslaught of information before taking a deep breath and continuing. "Now, as for the wound we had stitched on his back, all the stitches had been, well, forcibly ripped out, and extra pressure and disturbance had been added into it as well. We did the best we could with it, and miraculously it does not seemed to have caused any added tissue or muscle damage to his back. We re-stitched it back up, as well as stitching up a few other wounds on his body, most notably two extremely deep wounds in the side of his hip. We did have to perform surgery around those wounds before that to remove all shards of glass as well, but it is believed we managed to get it all out, and it does not seem to have become infected, but we are administering antibiotics to keep all infections at bay."

Will looked a little green around the gills, and he held a hand up, effectively stopping the doctor. "That's, uh, that's enough information for now, I think."

Dr. Weiss gave him a kind smile. "I understand. Now listen, I know you were just given enough to think about and process, and I'm sure you'd like to contact his friends and let them know what's going on, but I do need to ask you to do one more thing before I let you be."

"What?" Will asked cagily.

"We've taken the necessary photographs for the police and their investigation into the matter, that was all able to be done without a guardian in the room. But we have reason to believe, as I'm sure you're aware, that at least one of those men was sexually abusing Blaine. If we want to be able to have all the men taken down for every crime possible, we need scientific proof. So, since Blaine is a minor, we need the adult to whom Blaine's care has been entrusted to be in the room while we perform a rape kit."

"Shit," Will couldn't stop himself from saying it. He should have seen that one coming. He really did not want to be present for that, but he knew it was necessary. "All right," he agreed reluctantly.

* * *

><p>Blaine blinked, and he was no longer watching himself be forced to service the men on his knees in the living room floor. Now he was being forced to watch himself get raped in his own room, on his own bed by the two Neanderthals.<p>

"Look at the little slut," Jimmy laughed to Bruce, as he lashed Blaine's back with his belt. "He's practically begging for it!"

Blaine wasn't sure which part of him seemed to be begging for it. Was it the tears pooled in his eyes that dripped silently down to his bedspread or was it his hands that were tied to the headboard so he couldn't get away?

"You know what, Jimbo? That's a damn fine idea. I want to hear him beg for it before we give him the pleasure of our cocks. Go on, whore. Beg."

Blaine watched himself shake his head violently, shoulders heaving while sobs racked his body.

"Tsk, tsk, little boy. Daddy told you to do what we said, remember? Now you heard my friend. Beg. Ask for us to fuck that ass of yours."

Blaine shook his head harder, and bucked away when he felt the cold, sharp blade of a knife circling around his entrance.

"Trust me, out of all your options right now, being fucked is definitely the one you want to pick. Your other options aren't as well, pleasant, shall we say," Jimmy said in his ear, and the real Blaine could still remember the smell of whiskey breath that wafted out from between Jimmy's lips when he spoke, clouding Blaine's nostrils, causing him to gag slightly.

But Blaine remained stubborn, and kept his lips sealed tight, refusing to do it. What they were doing to him, it was bad enough. He would not degrade himself further by asking them to do it. He was determined that he would not give them that satisfaction.

He shuddered as the knife traveled down and around, stopping directly below his nut sack. "One last chance, boy," Jimmy said menacingly.

Again, Blaine shook his head.

Jimmy, however, took the knife and cut a small, but deep and painful warning of a cut right below his left testicle, causing Blaine to scream, and begin crying even harder. "Beg," He demanded.

"P-please," Blaine whispered, ashamed.

"Please what? Whatever could the little slut want?' Bruce asked, in mock confusion.

Blaine tried to stop the tears, tried to take away at least some of their sick fascination, tried to rid them of some of the satisfaction.

"Please fuck me," Blaine whispered so quietly you had to strain to hear it. He'd never felt so low in his life. He'd reached the ultimate point of humiliation. That was the exact moment when Blaine came to the realization that he didn't matter. That he wasn't good enough for anything or anyone, other than to be a punching bag, and some sick, twisted older men's play toy. That was the moment, Blaine Anderson's spirit became broken.


	16. Labyrinth

_A/N: FUCK BLAINE BEING A JUNIOR_. _No, seriously. That's BS, and I refuse to acknowledge it happened. ANYWAYS. I apologize for the deceptively short chapter. I know it may look long, but in reality, a lot of this is a "song and lyric" chapter if you will. But it's necessary to Blaine's recovery in this story, so please bear with me. Read the note at the end in case you aren't sure of what any of the songs that are touched on are. Also, shameless self plug, but I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. If you want to know what I was working on in the meantime, go to my profile and follow the link to my dA…a couple new drawings of Darren Criss are up there. Prints are available for all of them, so if interested in attaining any of them, contact me here or on my dA. Also, I have a few random ideas for where some parts of this story could go, but I would love the input of someone, or 'someones', who is/are as invested in this story as I am, so if you are interested in allowing me to bounce some ideas off of you, I urge you to PM here, on my Tumblr, on my Twitter or of course, on my dA. Could really use some input, so please, please, __**please**__ review! I will love you forever! As always, enjoy. Sorry for the filler-ness and somewhat suckiness of this chapter, btw._

* * *

><p>Will was nervous as he followed Dr. Weiss into Blaine's room. If he'd thought Blaine had looked bad his last stay in the hospital, than he'd been kidding himself because this time made that time look like child's play. He lay flat on his back, with tubes and wires floating in and out of his hospital gown, connected to a variety of machines and IVs. His hands were clenched in fists by his sides, and the look on his face wasn't quite peaceful. He wasn't sure if it was because of how swollen it was, and how it was covered in cuts and bruises or if was just that even with his eyes shut you could still tell the emotional pain he was in.<p>

"I don't have to, uh," Will wasn't quite sure how to vocalize his question.

"No, you don't need to do anything, you don't even need to watch, you can face the wall if it makes you more comfortable. We just need you in the room since he isn't awake," Dr. Weiss had been a doctor long enough to figure out where the question had been headed.

"Oh. Okay, good," Will said, relieved.

He wasn't sure what to do, so he turned away and stared at the white wall next to the bed, tuning out the doctor's and nurses' voices, wishing he was anywhere but where he was.

"All right. All done. Thank you, Mr. Schuester."

"Yup. Can I leave now? I wanted to call my glee kids, assuming Kurt isn't already out in that waiting room," He smiled, knowing it was a distinct possibility.

"Yes sir, that's fine."

Will walked out of the room, and saw not only Kurt with Finn and their parents, but Puck, Santana and Brittany all lounging in the waiting room already.

"Mr. Schuester? They let you in? Does that mean he's awake? Can we see him?" Kurt bombarded him the second he laid eyes on him.

"Whoa, whoa. One thing at a time, Kurt. No, I'm sorry to say, he isn't awake yet. And yes, after we discuss some things, you are all more than welcome to go see him."

"If he hasn't woken up, why were you let in his room?" Puck asked suspiciously.

"Well that's one of the things we need to talk about. I had a meeting a few hours ago with a social worker from child services. After a brief interview, we signed some papers naming me Blaine's legal guardian for the time being."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Carole clapped her hands together, instantly getting the big picture and what all that meant. "So then go on, give us an update."

"Yeah, Mr. Schue. How is he? When will he wake up?" Santana piped in.

Will sighed and took a seat. "I'm not going to lie to you guys, we don't know when he'll wake up. It could be today, or it could be weeks from today. As for his injuries, are you sure you want all the gory details?"

Seven heads nodded eagerly, so Will launched into a short recap of his conversation with the doctor.

* * *

><p>Blaine watched as the room he was in spun around and around, landing him back in that first room, only the TV was gone, the glass had been cleaned up and…there was a door. Blaine didn't think he'd ever been so glad to see something as commonplace as a door before. He walked over to it, praying it wasn't locked, and was pleasantly surprised when it opened. Hesitantly, he stepped over the threshold, into a long hallway, that kept with the scheme of black walls and cement floor. However, this time, there was some light, in the form of wall sconces. They didn't emit much, but he could see at least. He walked a few feet when he noticed the hallway split off. There was a passage to his right, one to his left, and it still continued endlessly in front of him. Blaine felt like he was in a bad remake of The Labyrinth, only there were no weird creatures and disappointingly, no David Bowie either.<p>

He decided his best bet would be to continue straight, on the path he was already on, so that's just what he did. Every so often he would pass another option to turn left or to turn right, but he kept going straight. After what felt like hours of walking, he saw that there were framed photos on the wall, so he stopped to check some of them out. They were pictures from his childhood, he noted. Only, not ones he'd posed for. They were more like stills from his life. Some depicted him and his mother, before she'd killed herself. In the kitchen, making chocolate chip cookies together, sitting in his play room, finger-painting, with more paint on each other's faces than on the paper. He smiled, lightly tracing the photograph with his finger, and remembering how it felt to be loved by a parent.

After a few more steps, the pictures began to change into things he'd rather not be reminded of. His mom, lying on the floor unable to stand up after having been beat severely by his father. He remembered that time. His mom had tried to shield him from his father and he had not appreciated that in the least. They only got worse from there, as Blaine traveled down the hallway, lined with photographs from his worst memories, in chronological order. For some reason, he felt the need to stop and look at each and every one of them, too, as he slowly began torturing himself.

* * *

><p>Kurt looked like he was either going to cry or puke or possibly both when Will finished. Brittany wasn't putting on any pretenses and she had tears streaming down her eyes, same as Carole. Puck, Santana, Finn and Burt all looked like they wanted to hit something or someone.<p>

"So if he isn't awake, what's the point in visiting? He can't hear us," Puck muttered.

"We don't know that for sure. His doctor said he may very well be able to hear everything we say, and that it could be beneficial and crucial in his healing. Just because he can't respond doesn't mean he won't know we're there. So we need to be in there as much as we can, talking to him, laughing, telling him good news, even singing or playing his favorite songs, all right guys? The only thing Dr. Weiss has requested is that while we're in there with him, we are nothing but upbeat and positive. All smiles and laughter. If you feel the need to cry," He looked towards Kurt, Carole, and Brittany," You need to leave." Will then focused his attention on Burt, Finn, Puck and Santana. "If you feel yourself getting angry or losing your temper, you need to leave until you've calmed down. Understood?"

There was a chorus of yes's and Will stood up. "All right then. I'm supposed to head to the police station to meet with the detectives, so you guys are more than welcome to go see him. Let's try to keep it to only two or three people in there at a time for now though, okay?"

Again, everyone agreed, so Will left them to figure out who was going to see him first.

"Can I go in for a few minutes alone first?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah, man," Puck spoke for everyone. Kurt gave him a grateful look and then walked over to Blaine's room. He wavered outside for a minute before finally taking a deep breath, pasting a fake smile on his face, and letting himself in. He tried not to gasp when he saw Blaine lying there, looking so broken and beat down, tubes and wires criss-crossing every which way, and even a ventilator hooked up to make sure he didn't stop breathing in his comatose state.

Kurt quickly composed himself, and drug a chair next to the bed, laying one of his hands on Blaine's clenched fist. "Hey, Blaine. It's me, Kurt." Kurt stopped, waiting for him to respond, and then laughed a little at himself when he realized that obviously Blaine was not going to answer.

"So, this is awkward. I know I talk a lot, but normally the other person at least has some type of input in the conversation." Kurt watched Blaine's motionless form for a minute before suddenly getting a great idea. He couldn't sit here so soon after the fact and pretend everything was okay. He couldn't be all smiles, and rainbows, and sunshine, no matter how gay he was.

Scooting his chair back, he walked to the door, peeking his head out and motioning for Puck.

"What's up, dude?"

"Is your guitar in your car?" Kurt asked, the perfect song already forming in his head.

"Yeah. Want me to get it?"

"Please, and then come back in here, I need you to play something while I sing."

Puck smiled. "Sounds good, be back."

Kurt sat back in the chair next to Blaine's bed. "Want to hear a song? Puck's going to play the guitar, and I'll sing for you. I don't know if you've heard the song, but it's a good one. And I mean every word I'm about to sing, okay?" Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand, and for the briefest of moments he thought he felt Blaine's fist unclench the tiniest bit. "Blaine? Can you-can you hear me?" Kurt wiggled his fingers in between Blaine's fist. "If you can hear me, squeeze my hand." Again, Kurt felt what might have been a soft squeeze, but he couldn't be sure. It would do for now though, as it gave Kurt that little bit of hope and encouragement he was so desperately seeking right then.

Puck came in then, guitar in hand, and looked at Kurt expectantly. "What am I playing, man?"

Kurt told him the song, and Puck smiled. "I actually know that one. Good choice," Puck began to pluck out the opening chords, and Kurt began to sing.

_I can see your shadow laying in the moonlight  
>I can feel your heartbeat playing on my right side<br>Every night I long for this, makin' up what I miss  
>I can hear you breathing letting out a sad sigh<em>

_You try so hard to hide your scars_  
><em>Always on your guard<em>

_Don't, don't let me go_  
><em>Don't make me hold on when you're not<em>  
><em>Don't, don't turn away<em>  
><em>What can I say so you won't<em>  
><em>No don't, don't let me go...<em>

_I can see the skyline fading in the distance  
>Tears are comin' down<br>I'm trying just to make sense  
>I don't listen to the radio just the engine and the road<br>I wonder if my words are makin' any difference_

_I dream and then it seems to end_  
><em>But always comes again<em>

_Don't, don't let me go_  
><em>Don't make me hold on when you're not<em>  
><em>Don't, don't turn away<em>  
><em>What can I say so you won't<em>  
><em>No don't, don't let me go...<em>

_I'm comin' down_  
><em>To where you're standing<em>  
><em>I need you now or you'll be watchin'<em>  
><em>Me hit the ground<em>  
><em>With crash landing...<em>

_Don't, don't let me go  
>Don't make me hold on when you're not<br>Don't, don't turn away  
>What can I say so you won't<br>No don't, don't let me go..._

_Don't let me go..._  
><em>Don't let me go...<em>

Kurt and Puck hadn't noticed Dr. Weiss walk in halfway through the song, so they both jumped when they heard his voice.

"That was beautiful, Kurt," The doctor smiled. "And, if you notice, his fists have unclenched slightly, which an extremely good sign. Got any other songs up your sleeve?"

"Oh, I think we have one or two," Santana grinned, barging in. "My turn!"

Santana leaned down and whispered something in Puck's ear. He responded with a nod and grin and launched into another song.

_Here comes the sun, doo doo doo doo  
>Here comes the sun, and I say<br>It's alright_

_Little darling_  
><em>It's been a long, cold, lonely winter<em>  
><em>Little darling<em>  
><em>It feels like years since it's been here<em>

_Here comes the sun_  
><em>Here comes the sun, and I say<em>  
><em>It's alright<em>

_Little darling_  
><em>The smiles returning to the faces<em>  
><em>Little darling<em>  
><em>It seems like years since it's been here<em>

_Here comes the sun_  
><em>Here comes the sun, and I say<em>  
><em>It's alright<em>

_Sun, sun, sun, here it comes_  
><em>Sun, sun, sun, here it comes<em>  
><em>Sun, sun, sun, here it comes<em>  
><em>Sun, sun, sun, here it comes<em>  
><em>Sun, sun, sun, here it comes<em>

_Little darling_  
><em>I see the ice is slowly melting<em>  
><em>Little darling<em>  
><em>It seems like years since it's been clear<em>

_Here comes the sun, here comes the sun and I say,_  
><em>It's alright<em>

_It's alright_

* * *

><p>Blaine was looking at a picture of his father and him, his father had him held by his neck up against a wall, and his right hand was about to slam into his gut, when Blaine heard music coming from another direction.<p>

He turned from the photograph, and cocked his head to one side, concentrating on the sound. He knew that voice. He was positive he knew that voice. He couldn't quite make out the sound or the lyrics, but he knew he knew that voice. His feet began moving in the direction of the beautiful and welcome distraction until it became a little clearer. _You try so hard to hide your scars, always on your guard._

He had a fleeting glimpse of a boy he knew decked out in designer duds removing a blindfold. Kurt. The boy, the voice. It was Kurt. The blindfold he couldn't quite place, though. He didn't think he'd ever seen Kurt wearing a blindfold. It didn't matter though. Kurt was here somewhere, singing in that beautiful voice of his. He just needed to find him. If he found Kurt maybe they could find their way out of the maze from hell together.

He thought he was getting closer, taking twists and turns every which way when the music arubtly stopped. He let out a dejected sigh, not knowing which way to head anymore. "Kurt?" He asked into the darkness. "Kurt? Are you still there? Can you hear me?" He waited a beat. "Kurt, I'm kinda lost here, if you're out there somewhere, can you say something so I can find you?"

Blaine waited, but Kurt kept silent. Blaine let out a frustrated groan, and slammed his hand into the wall, "Dammit, Kurt! I-," There it was. A guitar. Only now it was coming from a different direction. From behind him.

A new voice began to sing, one he couldn't place. But he knew this song. It was the Beatles. Anyone singing the Beatles was okay in Blaine's book, so he turned around, hurrying towards the new voice. It sounded so damn familiar, like he just knew he should know who it was.

Again, Blaine kept heading towards the music. Hurrying this time, afraid they'd stop again and leave him lost and in the dark again. The song came to a close, and no new music started up.

"Dammit!" Blaine cursed, kicking the brick wall. "Is anyone out there? Can someone please find me?" He yelled into the dimness. "Kurt? Puck? Mr. Schuester? Anybody? Please?" Blaine waited. And waited. But there was nothing. He sunk down against the wall, resting his head on his knees, trying not to cry. "Please, someone just save me," He choked out, desperate and unashamedly.

* * *

><p>"That's bullshit!" Will yelled at the police.<p>

"I agree. But it's also how the law works," Detective Colt was not about to argue with Will's proclamation. He felt that the whole thing so far had been bullshit to be honest. From them not being able to arrest the man the first time the boy had landed in the hospital, right up to now. "Mr. Anderson made bail for him and his two friends. We can not legally keep them behind bars once bail has been made until when and if they are convicted by a jury in a court of law."

"So three grown men can beat the shit out of a defenseless teenager, can _rape_ him day in and day out, and yet, because they have deep pockets, they're free to roam the streets the very next day? How is Blaine supposed to stay safe?"

"The hospital is under strict instruction to not let any of them near him, and we will be placing a guard outside of his room twenty four-seven until either he is released or these three men are convicted."

Will was fuming. "It's still bullshit. It's not fair. It's not _right_," He knew he sounded like a whiny five year old, but he didn't care right then. Times like these really made Will hate the law.

"Sir, please try to understand, we're doing everything we can to rush the process of their trials along. I suggest you concentrate on finding a damn good lawyer, because with the amount of money Mr. Anderson is worth, he may be able to buy his way out of jail. You can bet he'll have the top lawyer in the state. You're saving grace just may be the photographs the hospital took, the rape kit they performed, and you need to do your best, assuming the young Anderson awakens, to get him to testify. I know he's not going to want to, but putting him up on the platform, allowing a jury to see how bad of shape he is in, how broken he is, that could make all the difference."

"Blaine wouldn't even admit his dad did this to his friends. What chance do you think there is that he'll be willing to rat out his dad to twelve strangers?" Will pointed out.

"I don't know. But I suggest you and the people that care about him, do everything in your power to convince him to do just that, or Mr. Anderson will walk, and Blaine has the distinct possibility of being placed back in his care."

Will slumped down into a chair in the detective's office, looking defeated. "He's in a coma right now. What if he's still in a coma come the trial?"

"Then we have to hope that you, and your student's testimonies, along with the photographic and scientific proof provided by the hospital will be enough to lock these men away for a very long time."

* * *

><p>Brittany knocked on the door to Blaine's room, asking if she could try singing as well, and Kurt and Santana nodded at her.<p>

"Would it be okay if it was just me and Puck?"

They both gave her an odd look, not understanding why she wouldn't want them in there, but again, they nodded nonetheless, and did as requested. Dr. Weiss gave her a smile, and asked her to let him know when she was done so he could perform some more tests on the severity of Blaine's coma, since he had a sneaking suspicion that this was doing wonders for the boy.

Puck smiled up at Brittany from his place in a chair at the end of Blaine's bed.

"What did you want me to play?"

"How are your Tom Petty skills?" Brittany asked with a smile, stating the name of the song she wisdhed to sing.

"I think I know that one," Puck grinned, and started playing.

_Well I won't back down, no I won't back down  
>You could stand me up at the gates of hell<br>But I won't back down_

_Gonna stand my ground, won't be turned around_  
><em>And I'll keep this world from draggin' me down<em>  
><em>Gonna stand my ground and I won't back down<em>

_Hey baby, there ain't no easy way out_  
><em>Hey I will stand my ground<em>  
><em>And I won't back down<em>

_Well I know what's right, I got just one life_  
><em>In a world that keeps on pushin' me around<em>  
><em>But I'll stand my ground and I won't back down<em>

_Hey baby there ain't no easy way out_  
><em>Hey I will stand my ground<em>  
><em>And I won't back down<em>  
><em>No, I won't back down<em>

Brittany finished singing, and gave Puck a tentative smile. He returned it tenfold. "That was perfect, Brit."

They both turned toward Blaine, and Brittany was surprised to see him shifting, ever so slightly, in his bed. His mouth was opening and closing rapidly, almost as if he was trying to form words.

Puck looked at Brittany, mouth agape, before setting his guitar and walking over to Blaine's bedside. "Blaine? Dude? Can you hear us? Are you, uh, are you there? Blaine?'

Blaine remained comatose for a few seconds, before a low groan made it's way out of his mouth. "Please," They heard his lips form the words, quietly, oh so quietly, but it was there. He had spoken.

"Dr. Weiss!" Puck hollered, running toward the door. "Dr. W!"

Dr. Weiss raced over from where he'd been conversing with Burt and Carole.

"Noah? Brittany? What is it? What's going on?"

"Blaine, he, uh, well I'm pretty sure he spoke," Puck said, motioning needlessly towards Blaine's form on the bed.

Dr. Weiss made his way over to Blaine. "Are you sure? What did he say?"

"It sounded like please," Brittany spoke up.

"I don't quite understand what is going on, why it is that Blaine seems to be responding so much to all of you singing, but I urge you to keep it up. Keep singing to him. It really seems to be showing a lot of improvement in his condition."

* * *

><p>Blaine ran unsteadily towards the sound of a hauntingly familiar female voice singing Tom Petty, but once again he was too slow. Before he could find the owner of the voice, the singing had stopped.<p>

"Dammit!" He yelled at nothing. All he wanted was to find the owners of all these voices. He knew if he could do that, that he would find his way out of here. But every time he got what felt like close to any of the voices, they disappeared, they quit for some unknown reason. Yet again, Blaine sank down against the unforgiving brick wall, dejected and miserable. "Please," he murmered softly. All he wanted was to find his way to out, to make it to the voices singing such beautiful, inspirational songs to him. But Blaine feared that may be impossible.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Kurt's song is Don't Let Me Go by The Click Five (I know it's supposed to be anti-human trafficking, but it worked for this! If you havn't heard it, or seen the video, I urge you to do so! (At the very least, seeing the video will make you understand why Blaine get's a fleeting glimpse of Kurt removing a blindfold.) Santana's is Here Comes the Sun by The Beatles, and Brittany's is I Won't back Down by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers._

Review? _**Please?**_


	17. Hallelujah

_A/N: I must give a huge shout out and thank you to SouthernHemmy. She has reviewed this story a few times now, and been a major supporter, which we all know urges us, as authors, to continue our stories, and strive to make them the best they can be. She has also allowed me to pick her brain and annoy her for about an hour or two the other night with random and slightly inane thoughts for the future of this fic, and she gave me some __**amazing**__ ideas and story lines for upcoming chapters that I doubt I would have reached on my own. So, seriously, thank you so much, dear! You've been a big help. And I promise to annoy the hell out of you with random questions/ideas in the future for this story! 3_

_Also, as I was proofing this chapter, I suddenly got all these reviews from SimplyHappy, and wow did they make me simply happy! (Bad pun is bad.) Thank you, love! Made my night, you're too sweet!_

_To anyone else who reviewed who I did not get back to directly, I apologize profusely, but please know I really appreciate the reviews, they spur me on to continue this random babbling of a story. I also apologize because I feel as if it took me awhile to get this chapter up, but in my defense, I've been working 80 hour weeks, been sick as a dog, and I've been trying to get ready for tomorrow (well, today now) which is my sons 9__th__ birthday. Holy fuckin' hell, y'all, I'm __**old**__. My little boy is 9! Happy birthday Gavin! Mommy loves you…and sincerely hopes you never read this fic, because, uh, yeah, you may think Mommy has issues then! Enjoy guys, I think this chapter makes up for the semi-shitiness of the last chapter!_

* * *

><p>Monsters will create monsters through their own actions. An abusive father may very well create an abusive son. But that abuse the son dishes out can come in many forms. It can come in the form of turning around an abusing his own son, or his own wife, or both. Or it can rear it's ugly head by making that son turn the abuse on himself. A son that has never felt the love of a father may begin to think he is unworthy of love. Something so many just assume everyone has may be the one thing that child longs for, the one thing that child needs, the one thing that child knows he will never have. So when a son is beaten down and broken time and time again by his own father, that son may begin to tear himself down. That child may not become a danger to others, but he may very well become his own worst enemy. He will look in a mirror and see a monster. He will see someone who is unworthy of love and affection. He will grasp at straws, trying to understand why he was not given the loving father figure he sees so many of his peers taking for granted. He will assume he is the problem, he will assume he is the monster. So he will begin trying to destroy that monster. It may manifest in many different ways. The child may begin to bring physical harm to himself, for he so often has it brought upon him by one of the people who created him.<p>

* * *

><p>Blaine had no idea anymore how long he'd been wandering around this maze from hell, desperately seeking the passage that would lead him out. He kept hearing voices, beautiful, wonderful, inspiring voices. Singing the most amazing songs, and he felt as if they were singing directly to him, so he would follow the voices. He would seek them out. But every time he got close, the voices stopped. And awhile later, they would start again, but by that time, Blaine had himself so turned around that he had to begin the search over again. He could never get there in time. He was beginning to think he never would.<p>

* * *

><p>It had been two weeks of pure hell for Will and five of his glee kids. Not to mention Burt and Carole, who couldn't stand to see their own sons so stressed, so worried, and yet knowing they could do nothing to ease any of their fears.<p>

It had been two weeks since Puck and Brittany had insisted they'd heard Blaine speak. But since then, there had been nothing. Well, not nothing, exactly. Blaine's scoring on the Glasgow Coma Scale had improved. Slightly. Barely. But it had improved. He occasionally responded to painful stimuli, and if the right song was sung by the right person, or the right music was played on someone's iPod, Blaine would fidget, almost imperceptibly, but there was a response of some sort at least.

The biggest breakthrough in Blaine's condition came the day Brittany showed up, and let herself into his room while no one else was there. It was rare for only one person to be there at a time, it seemed all any of them did anymore was hang out in Blaine's hospital room, singing, telling him stories, giving him updates on life. But Kurt and Finn had their mandatory Friday night dinner with their parents, Will was busy grading tests, Puck had to clean a pool, and Santana had to babysit her younger siblings. So it was just Brittany.

She eased into his room, clutching the forgotten light up teddy bear in her hand. She'd washed all of the blood off of it, made sure it was free of any stray pieces of glass, double checked that's it's little paw still made it go into rainbow colors, and was excited to finally give it back to Blaine.

"Hi, Blaine!" Brittany chirped, fake smile plastered to her face as she sat down next to his bed. "So, I have something of yours." Anyone else may have felt foolish, but Brittany felt it was perfectly normal, and she pried open Blaine's left fist, the one that wasn't mangled from being put over an open fire. Once she had managed that feat, she stuck the bear in his hand, clapping with joy when he immediately closed his fist tight around the bear's paw, and the faint pink light began, slowly fading into orange, then yellow, and so on and so forth.

* * *

><p>Blaine was slumped against the wall, all hope gone when he felt something furry in his fist. He knew that feeling, he knew what that was, He couldn't place it right then, but godammit, he <em>knew<em> it. He focused all of his energy and concentration on the familiar feeling. When he opened his eyes, and glanced down at his hand, he saw a white teddy bear clenched in his fist. He couldn't place it, he wasn't sure where he'd seen it, but that bear was so familiar. He squeezed the paw of the stuffed animal he was suddenly holding, and was amazingly unsurprised when it began to light up.

"Brittany," he muttered to himself. Brittany had given him that bear when he'd been in the hospital. He knew this. He wasn't sure how, but he was absolutely positive that this bear had come from Brittany, the blonde, misunderstood cheerleader. "Brittany?" He asked out loud. "Are you there? I can't find you. Where are you?" He waited for a moment, with no response, and felt himself growing agitated.

"Brittany? It's dark. I can't find you. Please, Brittany. I need to get out of here," He murmured into the dark. There was no response. Blaine waited, and waited, and waited.

The bear seemed to be lighting the way, urging him to follow it, so follow it he did. It wasn't as if the teddy bear suddenly sprouted wings and began to fly, but to Blaine it felt like the bear was drifting in one exact direction, so Blaine drifted with it.

* * *

><p>The door to Blaine's room opened, and Puck came strolling in. "Finished cleaning that pool in record time," He told Brittany. "How's our boy?"<p>

"He took the bear," Brittany replied, not bothering to elaborate.

Puck tilted his head at her and lifted an eyebrow. "Huh?"

Brittany gestured towards where Blaine was gripping the bear's paw.

"Ah," Puck shook his head, but smiled anyways.

"I should go. I promised Santana I'd keep her company while she babysat," Brittany stood up abruptly.

Puck waved as she left, and then took the seat she'd been sitting in, fishing his guitar out of his case.

"Any requests?" He asked Blaine. He waited a beat, then shrugged. "Alright. Artists' choice, I suppose. I guess I'll prove how unoriginal I am."

_Sometimes in our lives, we all have pain, we all have sorrow.  
>But if we are wise, we know that there's always tomorrow.<em>

_Lean on me when you're not strong_  
><em>I'll be your friend I'll help you carry on<em>  
><em>For it won't be long 'til I'm gonna need<em>  
><em>Somebody to lean on.<em>

_Please swallow your pride_  
><em>If I have things you need to borrow<em>  
><em>For no one can fill those of your needs<em>  
><em>That you won't let show.<em>

_You just call on me, brother, when you need a hand_  
><em>We all need somebody to lean on.<em>  
><em>I just might have a problem that you'll understand,<em>  
><em>We all need somebody to lean on.<em>

_Lean on me when you're not strong_  
><em>And I'll be your friend I'll help you carry on<em>  
><em>For it won't be long 'til I'm gonna need<em>  
><em>Somebody to lean on<em>

_You just call on me, brother, when you need a hand_  
><em>We all need somebody to lean on.<em>  
><em>I just might have a problem that you'll understand,<em>  
><em>We all need somebody to lean on.<em>

_If there is a load you have to bear_  
><em>That you can't carry I'm right up the road<em>  
><em>I'll share your load if you just call me.<em>

_Call me (If you need a friend)_  
><em>Call me<em>  
><em>Call me<em>

Puck brought the song to a close, and then watched the boy in front of him, silently urging him to just open his damn eyes. Then, not so silently.

"Yo! Blaine! C'mon man. You've been out for a couple weeks! Now you're just being lazy," Puck went for a sardonic grin, but it fell a little short. For all his bravado, it was merely an act. He didn't honestly want anyone to see how much he'd come to genuinely care about the other boy's health and well being, especially since he couldn't make sense of it himself.

"Fine. I'm just gonna sit here and sing until you decide to quit being such a fuckin' sloth," Puck told him, resituating his guitar and beginning another song.

_When you're down and troubled  
>and you need a helping hand,<br>and nothing, whoa nothing is going right.  
>Close your eyes and think of me<br>and soon I will be there  
>to brighten up even your darkest nights.<em>

_You just call out my name,_  
><em>and you know wherever I am<em>  
><em>I'll come running, oh yeah baby<em>  
><em>to see you again.<em>  
><em>Winter, spring, summer, or fall,<em>  
><em>all you got to do is call<em>  
><em>and I'll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah.<em>  
><em>You've got a friend.<em>

_If the sky above you_  
><em>should turn dark and full of clouds<em>  
><em>and that old north wind should begin to blow<em>  
><em>Keep your head together and call my name out loud now<em>  
><em>and soon I'll be knocking upon your door.<em>  
><em>You just call out my name and you know where ever I am<em>  
><em>I'll come running to see you again.<em>  
><em>Winter, spring, summer or fall<em>  
><em>all you got to do is call<em>  
><em>and I'll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah.<em>

_Hey, ain't it good to know that you've got a friend?_  
><em>People can be so cold.<em>  
><em>They'll hurt you and desert you.<em>  
><em>Well they'll take your soul if you let them.<em>  
><em>Oh yeah, but don't you let them.<em>

_You just call out my name and you know wherever I am_  
><em>I'll come running to see you again.<em>  
><em>Oh babe, don't you know that,<em>  
><em>Winter spring summer or fall,<em>  
><em>Hey now, all you've got to do is call.<em>  
><em>Lord, I'll be there, yes I will.<em>  
><em>You've got a friend.<em>  
><em>You've got a friend.<em>  
><em>Ain't it good to know you've got a friend.<em>  
><em>Ain't it good to know you've got a friend.<em>  
><em>You've got a friend.<em>

Puck brought his second song to a close, and was trying to decide on a third when the boy in front of him stirred slightly.

"Blaine?" He asked, putting his guitar down. "Dude, wake up."

* * *

><p>Blaine could hear two familiar voices talking, so he continued down the path the bear was urging him on, stopping short when there was suddenly silence. "Not again," He muttered. So close. He'd been so close. He felt as if he should be able to reach out and touch the people he'd heard, but now he had been thrown back into a deafening silence.<p>

He waited, and then heard one of the voices. It was all alone now but it was speaking. He couldn't quite make sense of the words, though, so he continued to wait until he heard the singing begin. Blaine closed his eyes in concentration, trying to place the song. "Lean on me!" He deducted happily to himself, pleased that he'd gotten it so quickly. It sounded like the person singing it was in the same room. Blaine quickened his pace, determined to find the person before it was too late this time.

The singing stopped, but the same voice as before was speaking. Blaine strained to hear the unknown person, to understand what they were saying. He thought he heard his name. And that voice. Dammit he knew that voice. Almost as quickly as they'd stopped, the person started playing again. Blaine knew it might be his last chance, so he broke into a run, following the voice and the damn blinking teddy bear.

He came upon the door so suddenly that he almost crashed into it. He could hear the music perfectly now. James Taylor. You've Got A Friend. His mother had loved this song. He had a vivid memory of her dancing around the kitchen, singing it to him when he was little. But the voice singing the song wasn't James Taylor.

Blaine reached out, grasping the door knob and wrenching the door open. He was momentarily blinded by the fluorescent light, and he shielded his eyes with his left hand, dropping the bear to the ground as he did so. When his eyes finally focused he saw a face leaning over him, anxiously. "Puck?" He asked, confused.

* * *

><p>Blaine's eyes remained closed, but his body jerked. His head moved side to side, and finally his eyes blinked open. He let out a soft groan, and the bear fell to the floor as he covered his eyes with his good hand. He had a bewildered look on his face, and his eyes were moving left to right furiously before they finally focused, and Puck found himself staring into Blaine's open golden eyes.<p>

"Puck?"

"Blaine! Holy shit dude. Fuck, um, fuck. Don't close your eyes. Stay awake," Puck commanded, bolting for the door, and opening it up. "Hey!" He yelled into the hallway, startling the sleeping policeman whoi was 'on guard' outside of Blaine's room awake. "Dr. Weiss? Someone! Get in here!"

Dr. Weiss came down the hallway a few seconds later, his white lab coat flapping behind him as he rushed towards the frantic teen.

"Noah? What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Something is, I think something actually _right_," Puck stood out of the way and motioned towards the bed where Blaine was looking around, his eyes slightly wild, close to panicking.

Dr. Weiss pushed in the door, past Puck, calling for a nurse over his shoulder.

"Blaine?" He asked, placing a hand on the boy's good arm, trying to get him to stop thrashing before he ripped out an IV. That backfired, because Blaine jerked away from the touch, and immediately let out an anguished cry of pain at the sudden, harsh movement. He hadn't felt physical pain in so long it only added to his confusion and terror.

"Who are you? Where am I? Where'd Puck go?" Blaine asked, shrinking into himself as much as he could, his left hand dangling off the bed, opening and closing as he clumsily searched for the bear.

Dr. Weiss motioned Puck over. "Noah's right here, it's okay. Calm down."

"Get away from me," Blaine said hoarsely.

Dr. Weiss took a couple steps backwards, as Puck took a few tentative steps towards the bed, reaching down and picking up the lost bear, somehow understanding what Blaine was trying to find with his moving hand.

"Hey, man. Looking for this?" He held the bear out, and Blaine went to take it, and then pulled back, looking embarrassed and shaking his head violently, causing himself massive amounts of pain.

"Alright, alright. It's cool. I'll just sit it here," Puck put the offending bear in the chair next to the bed. "Take it easy, dude."

"Blaine?" Dr. Weiss asked, taking a small step forward, but still keeping his distance. "Do you know where you are?"

Blaine opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He finally closed it without answering, not wanting to admit that no, in fact, he had no fuckin' idea where he was. His face scrunched up in concentration and he slowly took in his surroundings. "Hospital?" He finally managed in a weak voice.

"Good. Very good. Do you know why you're here?"

What a stupid question. There was only one reason he was ever in a hospital. "No," He lied.

"Okay, that's fine. Can you tell me your birthday?"

Blaine gave the doctor a look like he'd lost his mind before whispering, "February. F-fifth. February fifth. Nineteen ninety four."

"Correct," Dr Weiss replied, giving him a big grin. Blaine just glared at him. Really? This guy was seriously praising him for knowing his own damn birthday? How stupid did he think he was?

* * *

><p>Will had been staring at the same paper for forty five minutes now, and had gotten nowhere so far. "Screw it," He finally muttered, pushing the stack of ungraded tests away. He had all weekend to grade them, so he decided to procrastinate for awhile. He got up from his desk, and walked into the kitchen, opening up the fridge and staring in at it, then closing it, only to open it back up a minute later. Restlessly he moved about his house, practically jumping out of his skin when his phone alerted him to a new text message.<p>

_Get to the hospital ASAP. Blaine's awake_.

Will re-read Noah's text to make sure he wasn't seeing things before grabbing his keys off the counter and rushing out the door to his car.

He obeyed the traffic laws as best he could, only running one red light and never going more than fifteen over the speed limit, but the second his car was parked, he jumped out and ran full speed into the hospital, arriving outside of Blaine's rooms breathlessly.

"Mr. Schue!" He didn't think Noah Puckerman had ever looked more relieved to see him in his life as the teen gripped him into a hug.

Mr. Schue couldn't help but laugh. "Is he, uh, okay?"

"I don't know. He's only been awake for about forty five minutes now, and he won't really let Dr. Weiss come closer than five feet to his bed. He let the nurse check his vitals though, and she said they all looked normal."

"Mr. Schuester," Dr Weiss came out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him and greeting Will with a firm handshake.

"How is he?" Will didn't bother with pleasantries.

"Not too sure yet. I can't get near him without him freaking out, and I feel it would be unwise for his mental health to push right now. Physically, he seems as good as is to be expected. He knows who he is, he figured out where he was, but he doesn't seem to remember why he's here. But it hasn't even been an hour, and memory loss and confusion is completely normal when someone first awakens from a coma."

"Can I go in? See if he'll talk to me or let me near him?" Will asked anxiously.

"By all means," Dr. Weiss stepped aside, opening the door for Will.

Will walked carefully into the room, where the nurse was leaning over Blaine. Blaine lay rigidly in his bed, watching her cautiously, untrustingly. His eyes swiveled towards the door when it opened, showing a slight sign of recognition and surprise.

"Hey, kid," Will said easily, offering the boy a smile.

Blaine remained stoic, and didn't answer him, but he also didn't stop Will as he inched his way closer. Blaine's eyes remained trained on Will until Will was by his bedside.

"How are you feeling?"

Blaine kept mute, and Will glanced towards the doctor who hovered in the doorway, nodding encouragingly at Will to continue.

"You remember me, right?"

Blaine closed his eyes briefly, looking slightly annoyed when he reopened them. "Mr. Schuester," He muttered.

Will relaxed, hoping that was a good sign. "Yup."

"You're all treating me like I'm some kind of moron. Quit it," Blaine said through clenched teeth.

"Sorry," Will apologized.

"Would you quit fuckin' poking me with that damn needle!" Blaine turned on the nurse, who backed up a little, stammering an apology.

"Get out of here. Everyone just get out and leave me the hell alone," Blaine said tiredly. The venom had left his voice, and his face was contorted in pain, his ribs screaming in agony from his outburst.

"Tell you what, Blaine. We'll all leave if you let Noah here hang out in the room with you," Dr. Weiss offered, since so far Puck was the only one Blaine hadn't had a bad reaction to.

Blaine grunted, which Dr. Weiss took to mean as a yes. "Noah, do you mind?"

"Nope, not at all."

"Alright, we'll be right outside the door in the hallway," He gave Noah a look, conveying to the teen to get them if anything changed or happened. Noah nodded absently, and dropped in the chair next to Blaine, who was still giving the adults dirty looks. Puck yanked the bear out from under him where he'd sat on it, again offering it to Blaine. Blaine made no move to take it, but when Puck placed it on the pillow next to him, he could have sworn a small smile ghosted Blaine's features quickly before vanishing.

The second the door closed and it was just the two teenage boys in the room, Blaine let his guard down, and tried to regain control of his temper.

Puck noticed Blaine's eyes straying towards the guitar. "I can play something if you want. You name it and I'll do my best to play it," Puck offered.

Blaine flicked his gaze towards Puck and was quiet for a moment before he softly said, "Hallelujah," in a hopeful voice.

"Your wish is my command," Puck grinned. "And lucky for you, I know that one pretty well." Puck picked up the abandoned guitar and began strumming. When he started singing he was slightly surprised to hear Blaine attempting to sing with him.

_Well I heard there was a secret chord  
>That David played, and it pleased the Lord<br>But you don't really care for music, do ya?  
>Well it goes like this<br>The fourth, the fifth  
>The minor fall and the major lift<br>The baffled king composing Hallelujah  
>Hallelujah<br>Hallelujah  
>Hallelujah<br>Hallelujah _

Puck stopped singing at this point, and allowed Blaine to take over completely. His voice was rough and frail, his vocal chords obviously straining after not having been used for a couple weeks. It was barely above a whisper, and every word that fell from his lips seemed to cause him physical pain, but the raw emotion, and Blaine's obvious love for the words coming out of his mouth made it sound heartbreakingly beautiful. 

_Well Your faith was strong but you needed proof_  
><em>You saw her bathing on the roof<em>  
><em>Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you<em>  
><em>she tied you to her kitchen chair<em>  
><em>And she broke your throne and she cut your hair<em>  
><em>And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah<em>  
><em>Hallelujah<em>  
><em>Hallelujah<em>  
><em>Hallelujah<em>  
><em>Hallelujah<em>

_Well baby I've been here before_  
><em>I've seen this room and I've walked this floor<em>  
><em>I used to live alone before I knew ya<em>  
><em>I've seen your flag on the marble arch<em>  
><em>Love is not a victory march<em>  
><em>It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah<em>  
><em>Hallelujah<em>  
><em>Hallelujah<em>  
><em>Hallelujah<em>  
><em>Hallelujah<em>

_Well there was a time when you let me know_  
><em>What's really going on below<em>  
><em>But now you never show that to me do you?<em>  
><em>And remember when I moved in you?<em>  
><em>And the holy dove was moving too<em>  
><em>And every breath we drew was Hallelujah<em>  
><em>Hallelujah<em>  
><em>Hallelujah<em>  
><em>Hallelujah<em>  
><em>Hallelujah<em>

_Well maybe there's a God above_  
><em>But all I've ever learned from love<em>  
><em>Was how to shoot somebody who out drew ya<em>  
><em>And it's not a cry that you hear at night<em>  
><em>It's not somebody who's seen in the light<em>  
><em>It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah<em>

Puck joined back in for the last few repeats of the title, the two boy's voices blending together unexpectedly well.

_Hallelujah  
>Hallelujah<br>Hallelujah  
>Hallelujah<em>

_Hallelujah_  
><em>Hallelujah<em>  
><em>Hallelujah<em>  
><em>Hallelujah<em>

_Hallelujah_  
><em>Hallelujah<em>  
><em>Hallelujah<em>  
><em>Hallelujah<em>

_Hallelujah_

* * *

><p>Will and Dr. Weiss stood outside of the room, in silence, listening to Puck and Blaine, and then just Blaine sing, and tehn the two voices blended back together seamlessly.<p>

"So what happens now?" Will asked when the song ended.

"A lot of that depends on Blaine. He's very unstable mentally it seems, which is not surprising and nothing to be alarmed about. There will be months of physical therapy and rehabilitation, obviously. He will need to meet with the psychiatrist daily, as well. Hospital policy and my direct orders. There were some unnerving slashes on his left arm, if you remember. Ones I believe he did to himself. And hopefully Dr. Delaney can get him to open up to her about all of that. As well as his drug addiction. We also need to see if she can get to the root of whether his weight is low because his father starved him or he starved himself."

"What?" Will asked. This was the first he'd heard about this.

"Mr. Schuester, Blaine is only a few inches under six feet, and yet his weight is barely over one hundred pounds. That's not healthy. We need to know if we're treating him for anorexia or bulimia as well, or if it was simply that his father did not provide food for him. The mental and emotional challenges will outweigh the physical ones greatly, I fear. I have no doubt in my mind that with physical therapy, Blaine's body will make a one hundred percent recovery, with the exception of his right hand. But I can not guarantee such progress with his mind and his mental health."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Weiss, but I don't understand. What could possibly make you think that Blaine is anorexic or bulimic? I mean, I get that his weight is low, I'm not arguing that. But why are you not just attributing that to the abuse received from his father? He had enough dished out to him daily, why would he go and starve himself on top of it?" Will was perplexed.

"Why would he go and cut himself on top of all the harm he received from his father?" Dr. Weiss countered. "That's where Dr. Delaney comes in. To get to the whys. To understand what is going on in this boy's mind. You and I have never been in his position, we can't begin to comprehend how his brain works. But if you want my professional opinion, his low weight was brought on by himself.

"A common misunderstanding about eating disorders is that the only thing that brings them about is low self esteem and a desire to be thin. But you'll find from conversing with many who suffer from such disorders that that is rarely the root of the problem. Blaine probably felt like he had no control over anything in his life most of the time. But eating was one thing he, and he alone, would have had complete control over. I sincerely doubt that if Blaine does have an eating disorder that it had anything at all to do with a want to be thin. I think ,if he does have an ED, that it had to do with his need to keep control over something in his life. However, I'm not a psychiatrist, or a psychologist, or a therapist. This is where Dr. Delaney comes in. These are subjects better discussed with her. She's an amazing woman, and I've seen her work wonders with patients who come from abusive situations. So we just need to place our faith in the fact that she can work her magic on Blaine, alright?"

Will nodded, trying to take in all the information. "I should, uh, I should go text the others. Let them know Blaine is awake, at least," Will finally said.

Dr. Weiss nodded his consent. "That's perfectly fine, but please, see if you can get them to wait until tomorrow to visit. I don't want to overwhelm Blaine right now with an onslaught of visitors. He's fragile, he's just awoken, and he's still a little confused. Let's just let him hang out with Noah right now, since that's what seems to make him comfortable, and tomorrow, well. We'll see where we're at then, okay?"

Again, Will nodded. "I understand."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Songs featured in this chapter: _

_(I'm pretty much just making my way through all my favorites. In my life, music has always been one of the biggest healers, and since it's a Glee fic, well, it kinda fits to have a ton of singing, right? Right.)_

_Lean On Me – Originally by Bill Withers, covered by, oh pretty much everyone in the world. (I personally was listening to Darren Criss sing it as I wrote this.)_

_You've Got A Friend – Originally by Carole King, but I was imagining (okay, and listening) to James Taylor's version._

_Hallelujah – Originally by Leonard Cohen, covered by, again, pretty much every musician in the damn world. (I was listening to and imagining it to sound like Jeff Buckley's cover, as that version is one of my top three favorite songs in existence.) _

_(In case you care, which you don't, but I'm telling you anyway, Here Comes The Sun by the Beatles, which I used in the last chapter is another top three favorite, and my remaining top three will be revealed/covered in a future chapter! Along with a bonus fourth, but that is way in advance and will be used as a major plot twist/turning point for this fic.)_


	18. Truths

Will decided his best bet would be to text Brittany and Santana the news, and explain why they needed to wait a day or two before visiting, and then to drive over to tell Kurt in person. He knew Finn, Burt and Carole would understand and be fine, but he had a feeling it may take just a bit of convincing, or even some rope, to keep Kurt from heading straight for the hospital the second he found out Blaine was conscious, regardless of whether Will asked him to wait or not. He called Burt, to make sure they were all home and told him he'd be over soon.

When Will rang the doorbell, Kurt answered, and his face jumped from surprise, to confusion to worry rapidly. "What's wrong? Why are you here? IS Blaine okay?"

"Calm down, Kurt, Blaine is fine. I just needed to talk to all of you and give you an update, if that's okay."

"By all means," Kurt replied, holding open the door and allowing Will to enter into the Hummel-Hudson household.

"Will, always a pleasure," Carole gave him a much warmer welcoming than Kurt, as the group settled into the family room.

"Yes, it's such a pleasure," Kurt muttered sarcastically and impatiently. "Why are you here?"

"Manners," Burt glared at his son.

Kurt rolled his eyes, and Finn stifled a laugh, turning it into a cough when he got the same look from his mom that Kurt had received from his dad.

"It's fine," Will waved off Kurt's rudeness. "I actually have some good news. Blaine woke up a couple hours ago," He announced.

Kurt jumped up. "Well why are we still here? Let's go!"

"Kurt, I don't think Mr. Schuester is done, sit back down," Burt said.

Kurt huffed, but primly sat back down, crossing his legs, and looking at his glee coach expectantly.

"Blaine is awake, but Dr. Weiss has asked if you all could possibly wait just a day or two to visit him. He's as good as to be expected physically, but he is mentally and psychologically exhausted right now, and Dr. Weiss feels as if it would be in his best interest to not overwhelm him with visitors right now," Will explained gently to Kurt.

"Have you seen him?" Kurt demanded.

"Yes. But I'm his guardian right now, that's different, and besides the point."

"Has anyone else?" Kurt pushed.

"Noah was with him when he regained consciousness, so he has, but other than that it's just me, the nurse, and the doctor."

"That's bullshit, I know him better than any of you do," Kurt fought back, refusing to accept that he couldn't see his friend right away.

"Kurt!" Carole admonished.

"Sorry," He muttered, but he sounded anything but apologetic.

"Kurt, I know you care about Blaine, and you want to see him get better, right?" Will asked, and Kurt nodded eagerly. "Then the best way to do that right now is to give him time to adjust, let him gather himself up a bit. If you truly have his best interest at heart, which I believe we all do, then we need to respect the doctor's wishes, and wait a day or two. I promise, as soon as the doctor says he can have visitors, you will be the first to know and the first to see him, okay?"

Kurt nodded reluctantly, unhappy with the situation. Will decided it would be best not to mention that Noah was still with him. Will wasn't sure why Blaine allowed Noah around him when he was so uneasy with anyone else's company, and he could only assume for now that it was because Blaine knew that Noah understood it to some extent. But Will didn't think that would make Kurt feel any better, so he kept his mouth shut.

* * *

><p>When Blaine's eyes had closed for the first time since he'd awoken, Puck found himself slightly panicked, and he jabbed the other boy lightly in his good shoulder, feeling slightly guilty when Blaine's eyes flew back open in horror.<p>

"Sorry. I thought, uh, sorry," Puck mumbled.

Blaine didn't respond, he just gave Puck a curious stare. Puck had tried his best, but so far, since Blaine had let the last line of _Hallelujah_ leave his lips, he hadn't said anything. He just lay there, barely moving, looking somewhere between lost and annoyed. So Puck was rather taken aback when Blaine finally spoke to him.

"What happened to my father?"

Puck paused, not sure if it was okay for him to tell Blaine or not, but he finally decided, fuck it, he couldn't lie to a kid in a hospital. "He and his buddies spent a night in jail, but then made bail. There's a policeman on guard outside your door all the time, though. So he, uh, he can't come in. He isn't allowed within a hundred feet of you until the trial."

Blaine snorted. "The law never stopped him from getting his way before."

Puck felt a stab of empathy for the other teen. Puck knew firsthand what it was like to be afraid of your own dad. But in Puck's eyes, he'd gotten the better deal. His dad had just left one day and never returned. But Puck vividly remembered the first few months after his dad had left; the fear that he could return at any second, the sense of never truly feeling safe. It had subsided with time, and Puck doubted he'd ever see the man again, but still.

"So what happens to me when I get out of here?" Blaine interrupted Puck's thoughts, suddenly chatty.

Puck wavered. Again, he wasn't sure it was his place to tell Blaine. Maybe that right belonged to Will. Puck decided again, he didn't care if it was okay or not for him to tell Blaine the truth.

"Actually, Child Services pushed some paperwork through naming Mr. Schue as your legal guardian until everything's sorted."

Blaine gave Puck a wry grin, and shook his head lightly, ignoring the pain such a small movement caused him. "Things will never be truly sorted," He told Puck. He didn't sound sad about it, or mad even. It was like he was stating a fact, one that had about as much importance to him as the color of the trash can sitting in the corner of the hospital room. He also completely ignored the fact that he had apparently been placed under the care of a man he barely knew and most certainly did not trust.

Puck was at a loss for words. He didn't know what to say or what to do. So he just kept quiet.

* * *

><p>Will glanced around at his glee club, noticing for the first time how divided they had become in the past couple weeks. Those who had learned a little more how cruel people really could be, versus those who were still in the dark. Kurt, Puck, Santana, Brittany and Finn sat huddled together on one side, with Rachel, Mercedes, Quinn, Sam, Artie, Tina and Mike on the other.<p>

Will knew in his heart that it was time to get rid of the tension. The group that wasn't in on the secret knew something was up. They knew that there was something going on that they weren't aware of. And Will knew it was time to fill them in. Because the strain between the two groups was not only becoming unbearable, it was affecting their performance and their chemistry, and it may just cost them sectionals. Their practices had become a joke, with the half that was in the dark resentful of the half that wasn't.

"Alright, guys!" Will clapped his hands, calling for everyone's attention, waiting until all eyes were on him until he began. "Guys," He addressed the smaller group, the more solemn group of kids who were all thinking of only one person right then. "I think it's time we let the others know what is going on, what has all of us so sidetracked."

"No," Puck said, shaking his head. "It isn't our story to tell, it's not fair to him."

"Not fair to who?' Rachel fired back, sick of being left out. Her and Finn's relationship couldn't take much more of the secretiveness, and she was fed up with it. He was cancelling dates left and right, barely responded to her texts, and he never even talked to her in the hallways or sat with her at lunch anymore.

"Noah, I understand you wish to respect his privacy, but unfortunately, it's tearing this glee club apart. I know that there are more important things going on right now than glee club and sectionals, but this is most of you guys' last year in high school, your last chance at winning Nationals, and I'd hate to ruin that. It wouldn't be fair to anyone."

Puck still looked apprehensive, as did the rest of his side of the room, but no one gave any further objections as they let Will's words sink in.

"Well, I guess it is your call, Mr. Schue, I mean, he's kinda your responsibility now, so it's your decision," Santana finally conceded. Will smiled gratefully at her.

"Okay, Mr. Schue, spill. We're all so confused over here that it's not even funny. So please, feel free to fill us in as to why all of these guys," She jerked her thumb towards the other side, "All seem to suddenly be so tight knit and secretive."

"Kurt?" Will asked, since he had been so uncharacteristically quiet.

"I think it's best they know," Kurt admitted. "But I think you should explain it. I don't think any of us can handle talking about it yet."

Will nodded, proud of the maturity Kurt was showing. "Alright, guys," Will turned from the one group, and focused all of his attention onto the group of kids who looked anxious to finally hear someone spill the beans. "You all either know or know of Kurt's friend over at Dalton, Blaine Anderson, right?"

Seven heads nodded attentively.

"Yeah, where's he's been lately, Kurt? You two used to be attached at the hip it seemed," Mercedes pointed out.

Kurt just nodded his head towards their glee coach, and gave no other comment.

"Blaine's been in and out of the hospital for the past three weeks," Will explained, holding his hand up for silence when everyone broke out into chaos, asking why and what was wrong. "I'm getting there, just please, settle down and wait until I'm finished to ask questions.

"As I was saying, Blaine spent a couple nights in the hospital a few weeks ago, and then went back immediately, and remained there until now. He's still there and most likely will be for a few more weeks. I don't want to give all the gory details, that isn't my story to tell, that will be up to Blaine to whom and how much he wants divulged, but it was brought to my attention that his home life was….less than adequate, shall we say. I have been placed as his temporary guardian, while he recovers and possibly until the time he is of legal age."

"What do you mean by his home life is less than adequate?" Sam was the first one to speak up.

"That's something that you will need to talk to Blaine about if and when you see him. I have given all the details I plan on giving, if anyone has questions or concerns, you may speak to me privately, but I do not promise to answer all questions. Just know that right now, Blaine is in a bad place, and he needs his friends, which is why you have all been seeing less of these guys over here. They have been spending most nights at the hospital with him. Now. I hate to bring this to an abrupt close, but like I said, I will give no further details, it isn't really my place. So let's begin trying to figure out what songs we want to perform for sectionals. Any suggestions?" Will changed the subject so fast that he could practically see their heads spinning, but to give them credit they all went with it and temporarily, at least, let the subject drop.

No one said anything, until Finn slowly raised his hand.

"Yes, Finn? You have an idea?"

Finn looked a little sheepish, but he tossed his idea out there anyway. "I was, uh, doing some research on abuse online, and I came across a couple songs that seemed really, uh, well, insightful."

Everyone looked slightly impressed that Finn had used the word insightful correctly, but they all knew now was not the time to comment on it.

"Alright," Will urged him on.

"I was thinking maybe we could kind of try to bring some attention to child abuse with our performances at Sectionals this year? You know, as a tribute of sorts or encouragement to Blaine?" Will started to interrupt him, but Finn plowed ahead. "I mean, we wouldn't say it was for him publicly or anything, we don't even have to tell him about it, but, I just thought, maybe…" Finn trailed off, suddenly doubting himself.

"I think that's a great idea, Finn," Kurt spoke up. "What songs had you come across?"

Finn looked relieved and a little more confident as he continued. "Um, one was called _Hell Is For Children_ by someone named Pat, uh….Pat…um…"

"Benatar?" Will supplied.

"Yeah!" Finn nodded gratefully." And the other was by a band called Jars of Clay. The song was called _He_, I think. I know neither of them are upbeat, and we usually do at least one upbeat song, but I don't know it doesn't, well…" Again, Finn trailed off, not positive how to express his thoughts.

Puck filled in for him. "It doesn't seem appropriate to be doing happy and cheerful songs right now."

Will gave a smile, unable to fully express how proud he was of his kids at that moment. They didn't seem concerned as to whether or not these were songs that could get them to Regionals. They seemed more concerned to bringing awareness to a problem that plagued world. A problem all but Puck had recently realized lurked in their own backyard, not off in some distant household to some kid they didn't know. He was taken aback by how selfless these kids were being in that moment.

"Well, why don't we look up the songs, and give them a try, see what we think?"

* * *

><p><strong>Pat Benatar – Hell is For Children<strong>

_They hide in the light, so you can't see their fears  
>Forgive and forget, all the while<br>Love and pain become one and the same  
>In the eyes of a wounded child<br>Because Hell  
>Hell Is For Children<br>And you know that their little lives can become such a mess  
>Hell<br>Hell Is For Children  
>And you shouldn't have to pay for your love with your bones and your flesh<em>

_It's all so confusing, this brutal abusing_  
><em>They blacken your eyes, and then apologize<em>  
><em>Be daddy's good girl, and don't tell mommy a thing<em>  
><em>Be a good little boy, and you'll get a new toy<em>  
><em>Tell grandma you fell off the swing<em>

_Because Hell_  
><em>Hell Is For Children<em>  
><em>And you know that their little lives can become such a mess<em>  
><em>Hell<em>  
><em>Hell Is For Children<em>  
><em>And you shouldn't have to pay for your love with your bones and your flesh<em>

_No, Hell Is For Children_

_Hell_  
><em>Hell is for Hell<em>  
><em>Hell is for Hell<em>  
><em>Hell Is For Children<em>

_Hell_  
><em>Hell is for Hell<em>  
><em>Hell is for Hell<em>  
><em>Hell Is For Children<em>

_Hell_  
><em>Hell is for Hell<em>  
><em>Hell is for Hell<em>  
><em>Hell Is For Children<em>

_Hell Is For Children_  
><em>Hell Is For Children<em>

**Jars of Clay – He**

_Don't try to reach me, I'm already dead  
>The pain when it grips me, for things that I've done<em>

_Well I try to make you proud, but for crying out loud_  
><em>Just give me a chance to hide away<em>  
><em>Exhaustion takes over, will this someday be over?<em>

_Fearful tears are running down_  
><em>The pain you've laid don't speak a sound<em>  
><em>Don't take my heart away from me<em>  
><em>And they think I fell down<em>

_Daddy, don't you love me?_  
><em>Then why do you hit me?<em>  
><em>And Momma don't you love me<em>  
><em>Then why do you hurt me?<em>  
><em>Well I try to make you proud, but for crying out loud<em>  
><em>Just give me a chance to hide away<em>  
><em>Exhaustion takes over, will this someday be over?<em>

_Fearful tears are running down_  
><em>The pain you've laid don't speak a sound<em>  
><em>Don't take my heart away from me<em>  
><em>And they think I fell down<em>

_A teardrop falls from up in the heavens_  
><em>Drowning the sorrow of angels on high<em>  
><em>For the least of the helpless, the hopeless, the loveless<em>  
><em>My Jesus, His children, He holds in His eyes<em>

* * *

><p><em>AN: Sorry, this chapter is a teensy bit of a filler, not to mention short, but still contains some important info. _

_So, I created a Tumblr specifically for my FFs….if you want to check it out, or follow me, or ask questions there or see my random thoughts/ideas/possible spoilers for my fics (mainly this one right now) then please feel free to visit it. It is LoriEchelon-FF (dot) Tumblr (dot) Com. Linkage is also on my profile now. Thanks for reading, and, as always, please feel free to review! Also, to all you silent readers who have put this story on alert, thank you so much!_


	19. Unease

"Kurt! _Kurt!_ Wait up!" Mercedes hurried after Kurt who had pretty much bolted out of his seat the second glee was over.

He heaved a sigh so she'd realized what an inconvenience she was being, but he stopped and waited nonetheless. "What?"

"I thought we were tight. Why didn't you tell me what was going on?" Mercedes panted after the mad dash she'd done down the hallway to catch up to Kurt.

"We all agreed not to say anything. It's not fair to Blaine to air his dirty laundry with all of my friends."

"Well what exactly is going on? I mean, I gather this has something to do with his dad abusing him, but what's the full scoop?"

Kurt shot Mercedes a look that could kill. "There is no _scoop_, Mercedes. This is Blaine's life, not some rumor on the gossip mill. And I'm sticking with Mr. Schuester on this one. I'm not giving any details, unless Blaine gives the okay. Now, if you don't mind, I'd really like to get to the hospital and see him, I haven't seen him since he woke up yesterday," Kurt made an attempt to push past Mercedes, but she blocked him.

"Okay, I understand how you are involved in this. And Finn. But Mr. Schue? Puck? Brittany and Santana? How the hell did this become their business?"

"Right place, right time," Kurt shrugged. "Or maybe wrong place, wrong time. Either way, it wasn't intentional. Now, please. I'm really not trying to blow you off, here, but I need to grab Finn and get to the hospital, okay?" Kurt stepped around Mercedes, only to find Finn in a similar conversation with Rachel, only with more screeching and selfishness.

"I'm your girlfriend, Finn. We shouldn't be keeping secrets. You should have told me!" Seriously, had Rachel's voice always been so whiny?

Kurt intercepted, and grabbed his stepbrother's arm. "Excuse us, Rachel, we have somewhere to be," He said haughtily, dragging Finn away.

"God, does that girl not understand that the world does not, in fact, revolve around her?" Kurt huffed, unlocking his Navigator, and barely giving Finn time to close his door before he was squealing out of the McKinley high parking lot.

"Uh, Kurt, dude, if we wreck I doubt they will give you and Blaine a double room in the hospital, so it will be even longer before you can see him," Finn pointed out, clutching the 'Oh Shit!' handle and holding on for dear life as Kurt took a turn at about three times the legal speed limit.

Kurt shot Finn his patented Bitch Face, but eased off the gas a little.

"Seriously, what do you see in her?"

"Says the guy who is on his third crush in a row to a straight guy," Finn retorted.

Kurt snorted, noticing that Finn didn't actually defend Rachel and wondering if the relationship was getting close to running it's course. He hoped so. Oh, God, the thought of _Rachel Berry_ as his step-sister-in-law, that made him shutter. He so did not want to have her at every family function from here until dooms day, ruining Christams' and Thanksgivings' left and right. Although, she was Jewish, so maybe she wouldn't be there on Christmas. Then again, that probably made it more likely she'd be there, since she wouldn't have to spend it with her own family. _God, I wish I believed in you because I might just shove not becoming related to Rachel berry to the top of my prayer list_, Kurt thought.

* * *

><p>Puck had yet to figure out why, when Brittany and Santana both had perfectly fine and running vehicles, he always got himself roped in to dragging them with him. Wasting his gas driving out to Westerville every day. And if either of them ever offered him gas money, he may just drop dead of surprise.<p>

He watched Kurt's Navigator screech out of the lot and lifted an eyebrow. "Well, someone is in a hurry."

"It's cute," Brittany said from the backseat. "Kurt loves him!"

"It's not cute," Puck informed her. "It's pathetic. He needs to find a man who actually enjoys taking it up the ass to fall in love with. He's just going to end up heartbroken, _again_, and then we will all have to watch him mope around and sing sad unrequited love songs, _again_. And what a joy that always is," He sneered. Puck wasn't sure why he was in such a bad mood today, but something had been irking him since he'd gotten out of bed. He couldn't place his finger on it, but for some reason, the last place he wanted to be headed right now was back to the hospital in Westerville. He didn't want to sit in a chair, trying to figure out what to say to Blaine, and watching a kid he'd always thought of as so confident look so absolutely terrified every time anyone came near him. He was fed up with having to watch a boy slowly become more broken and closed in, he was fed up with sitting in hospital waiting chairs, and he was just plain fed up in general right now.

"Wow, be more of dick, Puck," Santana muttered, smacking his arm, which earned her a vicious look. "And anyways, maybe Blaine will return the feelings. I agree with Kurt about him not being completely convinced he's straight."

Puck slammed on the breaks when he noticed he was about to run a red light and hit into a car turning in front of him, and swiveled his head angrily towards Santana. "What the hell is it with you guys? Like Blaine isn't dealing with enough shit? If he says he straight, he's straight, leave it the fuck alone," Puck yelled. The thought of Kurt and Blaine as a couple made him uneasy, and that just added to his overall irritation, because really, what those two did with their romantic lives was none of his damn business and he really didn't give a shit either way.

Santana huffed at him, not amused by being yelled at, and Brittany let out a small squeak, and sat back in her seat, looking like a kid at the dinner table who was trying to ignore the fact that mom and dad were fighting.

The rest of the ride to the hospital was done in silence, aside from the Metallica that Puck had blasting from his three good speakers.

When he parked, Puck sent Brittany and Santana in without him, and lit up a cigarette in the lot, furiously inhaling the thick white smoke into his lungs, tapping his foot on the concrete, and practically jumping out of his skin when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Shit, Mr. Schue! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"You know, I think all of you kids are getting entirely too comfortable swearing in front of me," Will commented. "And would you quit smoking, it's bad for your health."

"Living seventeen years with a dad like Blaine's is bad for your health," Puck muttered angrily, but he put the cigarette out in the ashtray by the door anyway.

"So why aren't you in there? What has you standing out here by yourself?" Will could sense something had been off about Puck all day.

"Nothing," Puck lied smoothly. He and Blaine seemed to share that trait. "Just smoking a cigarette, then heading in."

"Well, it's out, so let's go," Will replied.

Puck couldn't think of another excuse fast enough, so he followed his teacher into the hospital, resenting the all too familiar smell of chemicals and medicine and death that assaulted his nostrils the second he stepped through the automatic doors.

Puck stopped right in front of the doors, and after a moment Will noticed he was walking alone. He turned around, looking at one of his more closed off students, standing by the entrance doors to the hospital with an unreadable look on his face.

"I can't…I can't do this today Mr. Schue. Please, can you see if Kurt can drive Brittany and Santana home?" He asked, before he turned and bolted out the doors, running for his car, leaving an astonished Will behind him.

* * *

><p>Kurt gathered up all his courage, and placed his hand on the doorknob that would lead him into Blaine. He gave himself a silent pep talk, and then determinedly flicked his wrist, opening the door and walking in, shutting it softly behind him.<p>

Blaine's eyes were wide open, and the TV was on, tuned into some soap opera that Blaine was paying little, if any, attention to. His bright hazel eyes were trained instead out the window, which someone must have pulled the curtains back from, allowing a stream of fading sunlight to flow in, illuminating the boy.

He didn't turn at the sound of the opening door, and it was as if he hadn't even realized anyone had entered into his room.

"Hi, Blaine," Kurt said, feeling stupid when he received nothing in return. No hello, no eye contact, no acknowledgement at all. Kurt threw his shoulders back, faking confidence he didn't feel, and strode around to the other side of Blaine's bed, pulling up a chair and sitting on his right side in his direct line of vision. "Hi," He repeated.

Blaine reluctantly drug his eyes from the window and gave Kurt a cursory glance before allowing his eyes to fall shut. He was silent for a minute before he finally opened his eyes, and looked at Kurt. "Hi," He replied guardedly.

"So, how was your nap? I have to say, I thought Finn was a champion napper, but the most he ever managed at once was seventeen straight hours. Two weeks, now that is impressive," Kurt tried to make light of the situation, and it worked, at least partially, because Blaine permitted the smallest of smiles to glimmer his features for a brief moment.

"What can I say? I was tired," Blaine responded. His weak attempt at joking back fell short, though, because the truth of his own words hit him like a ton of bricks. He was tired. He was tired of pretending to be someone he wasn't all the time, he was tired of lying to everyone around him, he was tired of being afraid to spend the night in his own house, he was just plain tired.

"You gave us all quite a fright," Kurt decided honesty was the best policy. "We were all pretty worried."

Blaine broke the gaze, and let his eyes drift back towards the window. "I can take care of myself. I don't need anyone worrying about me."

Kurt didn't agree, but for once he kept his thoughts to himself, and didn't point out to Blaine that if that was true than he wouldn't have spent the past three weeks in and out of the hospital. "I know," He said softly instead. "But still. We were worried."

"We?" Blaine questioned since it was the second time Kurt had said it. "No offense to anyone else, but I don't know them. I don't need or want anything from them. Especially their worry and their pity," The last part was spit out, with Blaine sounding almost resentful of the fact that people might actually care. "And I don't want yours either," He added bitterly.

"Well, you know what, Blaine? That's just too damn bad, because you have it. We were all scared to death. You didn't see yourself that day! You didn't see yourself lying on the floor, covered in blood and bruises and burns, you didn't stand there and wonder if your best friend was even breathing!" Kurt was standing up now, pointing a shaking finger at Blaine, his voice rising with each sentence. "And now you have a group of people who care about you, truly care about you and your well being and whether you are alive or dead, so I'll tell you what. When you're ready to accept that, to accept us as your friends, then shoot me a text. "

"You're right," Blaine said, causing Kurt to stop and turn in shock. "I didn't see myself," Blaine continued. " I was too busy lying there and feeling it, living it. So I'm sorry that you wasted your time worrying about me, but do us both a favor and don't bother anymore," Blaine snapped back. "I don't need you to worry about me or to care about me. I don't need your damned glee coach or your damned glee club to either, so just fuck off, Kurt. Take that superior than thou attitude of yours and _fuck off!_"

Kurt felt all of his anger drain out of him as he looked at his friend lying there helplessly. Blaine sounded angry, but the look in his eyes wasn't anger. It was fear. Pure, unadulterated, fear. Kurt wasn't sure if Blaine was afraid of his dad, afraid of what would happen when he was released, afraid of the long road of recovery he had in front of him, afraid of allowing people in and allowing them to care or some combination of all of them, but it was undoubtedly fear that skulked in the boy's eyes and voice, unsuccessfully camouflaged by a misplaced and insincere anger.

"Blaine, you're my best friend. You've been there for me through everything, now it's my turn to repay the favor. So I'm not going anywhere. Say what you want, it won't change that. I'm always just a phone call away, you know that. I'm going to leave your room now, but only because I think you want some time alone, not because I'm abandoning you. So please, when you realize that you need a friend or even if you just get lonely, call me. I'll be here in thrity minutes or less, just like Dominoes," Kurt reassured his friend, before he leaned down, brushing a stray curl off Blaine's forehead. "We're all here for you in whatever way you want us to be," He reminded Blaine, adjusting the white teddy bear that still lay next to Blaine's head on the pillow. "Don't be afraid to let us in," Kurt added quietly, letting himself out.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Now can anyone tell me what foreshadowing is? _

_Sorry for the shortness of this chapter, but it's important to the overall story and the future of this fic, and hey, it's an update, right? I'm hoping to get up a much longer chapter or maybe even two, tomorrow or the next day, as I have a day off headed my way, and the kiddo will be in school so I should have some time to focus uninterrupted on Chapter 20!_


	20. Flashback

_A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, dears! I think I got back to all of you, but if I missed you I'm truly sorry, feel free to cuss me out if need be…and well…blame it on the alcohol. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. Enjoy Chapter 20! And watch out for the whiplash, this chapter goes from somewhat lightheartedness to angst filled drama at a rapid pace!_

_**Warning for non-graphic flashbacks of rape. If you wish to skip these parts, then please do not read the second to last paragraph.**_

_As always, reviews are welcome, as are prompts and ideas and con-crit!_

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><p>Will wasn't really surprised when he saw Kurt walk out of Blaine's room, only minutes after he'd gone in.<p>

"Kurt?" Finn questioned. Brittany and Santana also shared Finn's puzzlement. Will reminded himself none of them had seen Blaine since he'd been awake, so they weren't aware of Blaine's closed off state right now. They hadn't counted on not being welcomed into the room with hugs and gratitude.

"Blaine needs some alone time right now," Kurt stated. Will was surprised at the lack of annoyance in Kurt's voice. He'd assumed Kurt would be pissed off at Blaine. Maybe Emma had been right, maybe Will didn't give Kurt enough credit for how much he matured from the sophomore he'd met when he first took over glee club.

"So, should we leave?" Santana asked. She sounded irked, of course.

"I think it may be best for us to come back and try again tomorrow. Blaine has my number, and Dr. Weiss can get him Mr. Schuester's if he wants it. If Blaine wants company, he'll call. I hope," Kurt added the last part with an ironic twist of the lips.

"So we came all the way out here for nothing?" Santana pursued.

"No. We came out here because our friend is lying in a hospital bed, hurt. We came here to show him he has a support system and people that care. He's just not ready to accept that right now. He needs time," Kurt explained quietly.

Will decided he'd definitely underestimated Kurt, and he couldn't remember ever having been more proud of him then he was right then.

"Oh, hell no. Screw that. _No me gusta_. I did not come here to sit in a waiting room again when that boy is actually awake," Santana muttered a string of Spanish no one else caught, and before anyone could stop her, she waltzed into Blaine's room, shutting the door behind her with a defiant click.

Kurt shot Will a worried look, wondering if they should drag Santana out, but Will just shook his head at him. It couldn't hurt to try all methods and all personalities to get through to Blaine. And if he heard Blaine getting upset, he'd go in and drag the Latina out by her high pony himself, anyways.

* * *

><p>"What the hell, Blaine Anderson," Santana stalked over to his bed, glaring down at him. "I did not go to your house to stop your asshole of a father from killing you and then spend two weeks sitting in uncomfortable waiting room chairs for you to wake up and refuse to see any of us. So get some more chips and beer, cause I'm joining this pity party."<p>

Blaine raised his eyebrows at Santana's outburst, but otherwise ignored it and her.

Santana rolled her eyes, and plopped down into the chair next to him. "Nice bear. You look like shit."

"Sorry, my hair and make-up people were otherwise engaged," Blaine replied when he realized she had no plans of leaving until he acknowledged her presence.

"Oh, you have a hairdresser? You should fire him for excessive abuse of hair gel."

Blaine's lips twitched, and he put on a slightly offended look. "I like my hair."

"So do I when it isn't the main contribution to global warming. Seriously, I can't look at you like this anymore. Can you sit up at all?"

Blaine just gave her a questioning glance. Santana threw her hands up in the air, and grabbed the remote to his bed, creaking it into a slightly more inclined position, but watching to make sure it wasn't causing Blaine any unnecessary discomfort. Without a word, she retreated into the bathroom connected to his room, and came back out a few minutes later with a washcloth.

Gingerly, she wiped the grime off his face, then rewet the washcloth and rubbed it over his curls, trying to clean them best she could. She turned from him, digging in her backpack and produced a comb, which she ran through his hair. Blaine just laid there and let her do her thing, a little shell shocked and confused.

He grimaced as the comb brushed over the injuries on his head, but he knew this was Santana's way of being helpful, so he tried not to let her see that it was hurting him more than helping him right then.

"Better. Almost. Here," She produced a tube of deodorant from her backpack. "Seriously, dude. You need a shower." She was tempted to make a joke about giving him a sponge bath, but she thought that may be pushing the envelope a bit, that it might dredge up some horrible memory from his past if she made any type of sexual joke.

This was where Blaine drew the line. "I am not putting on lavender scented ladies deodorant."

"Fine," Santana huffed, going to the door. "Finn," She hollered into the hallway, causing a few doctors and nurses to glare at her.

"What?"

"Do you have some deodorant and cologne in your bag? I'd ask Kurt, but I have a feeling his products are even more girlie scented than mine."

"Hey!" Kurt protested, overhearing.

"Oh, please, are you seriously denying it?"

Kurt clamped his mouth shut, and turned away from Santana who just rolled her eyes yet again.

"I do, but my bag's in Kurt's car," Finn answered her earlier question.

"And? The last time I checked, Blaine and Artie were the only ones without two perfectly working legs that would allow them to walk their asses down to a car and get some damn deodorant."

Finn frowned at her, but got the keys from Kurt, and reappeared a few minutes later, handing Santana the requested items. She took them from him, and then slammed the door in his face, turning back to Blaine.

"Okay, let's see if I can do this without hurting you," She uncapped the deodorant, shaking her head when she saw that, of course, like every straight high school boy in the world, Finn had Axe deodorant and Axe body spray. How typical. As tenderly as she could, Santana raised Blaine's bad arm, wincing with him and quickly applied the gel, before switching to his good arm and repeating the gesture. The she switched for the body spray, and pressed the nozzle, hitting his hospital gown, and misting the ugly green and purple bruises that had yet to fade from his throat. With a sheen of mist on them they looked even more prominent and disgusting, but Santana didn't think that was something Blaine needed to hear. She bobbed her head up and down, pleased with her quick handiwork. "Much better."

Blaine just gazed at her, wondering why Santana had found any of that important right now.

As quickly as she'd come flouncing into his room, insisting on seeing him, she seemed ready to leave, suddenly glancing around the room and looking uncomfortable. Blaine decided to put them both out of their misery.

"Santana, I really appreciate, uh, that, but, I'm tired. I'd really like to just be left alone to sleep," He made up an excuse, hoping to get her to leave.

Nodding once, briskly, Santana swung her backpack over her shoulder. "Okay. I'll stop by tomorrow to see you." When she got to his door she stopped, and turned towards him. "It's good to see you awake. And just so you know, I'm not always a bitch. I can be a good listener. Or even just a good partner to watch some mindless movie with. So keep that in mind, alright?" Without giving him time to answer, Santana swept out the door.

Blaine relaxed back into the bed, wondering where the control to make it go back down had gone, and hoping no one else decided they had a right to see him, his thoughts and feelings be damned.

* * *

><p>Will found himself alone at the hospital after Kurt left, taking all the other kids with him. He knew he had to go in and talk to Blaine, explain what had happened while he'd been out, and make sure Blaine was okay with everything. But for selfish reasons, he was putting off that conversation. He wasn't sure how Blaine would react to the news, and he was fearful that Blaine would resent him and feel as if major decisions that affected him had been made without him. He was afraid that once again, Blaine would feel like he had no say in anything, no control, like his thoughts and feelings didn't matter. And Will wasn't sure he could handle being the one who made Blaine feel like that this time.<p>

Steeling himself, Will placed his hand on the door know to Blaine's room. He had to put aside his own insecurities and fear and think of Blaine. Blaine deserved the truth; he deserved to know, no matter how it made Will feel.

Blaine looked up wearily when the door to his room opened, but he didn't seem at all put out when he saw who it was entering. Will took that as a good sign and came just a little more into the room.

"I was wondering when you'd appear," Blaine commented.

Will tilted his head, mystified. "What do you mean? I was here yesterday right after you came to."

"I know. I was more curious as to when you would tell me what I already know."

"What do you mean?" Will had no idea that Puck had already given Blaine a short run down of what had happened with Child Services.

"Puck told me that you're my guardian for the time being. So I figured it was only a matter of time before you came in here to give me the news yourself. If you'd like I can try sneaking down to pediatrics and see if there are any '_Congratulations, it's a boy_´ balloons," Blaine's sarcasm was heavy but Will didn't detect much anger in his tone.

"Is that okay with you?"

"Does it really make a difference whether it is or not?" Blaine answered Will's question with a question of his own.

Will considered his words carefully before responding, knowing he had to handle this as delicately as possible. "Yes, actually. To me it does. If this is something you aren't okay with, then I will call Child Services right now and see what else can be figured out. The only reason I accepted their request without your okay was because I wanted to know there was someone in charge who had only your best interest at heart. You were in a coma, Blaine, and with no family there was no one the doctor's would talk to, no one to help make the decisions that would best benefit you. But you're awake now, and can make your own decisions, and if this isn't one you agree with then we will change it."

Blaine wordlessly appraised the older man who still hovered near the door, cautious about entering all the way into the room. Mr. Schuester looked older than he remembered; tired and worn down. The bags under his eyes were prominent, and Blaine didn't remember him having quite so many worry lines around his eyes and mouth. But none of that made much of a difference to the teen. He didn't trust him. He didn't know him. But his options were limited right now. He had nowhere else to go. Going back to his father was certainly not a viable selection now. And seeing as he was still underage for a few more months, he couldn't strike out on his own when he was released. But the thought of leaving the relative safety of the hospital, only to be forced to go live with some, some _man_ he didn't know paralyzed Blaine with fright.

Just because Kurt trusted Mr. Schuester did not mean Blaine did. How was he to be positive that Mr. Schuester wouldn't turn into a monster the second it was just the two of them, all alone in a house that Blaine would be unfamiliar with.. Blaine shuddered at the idea of being alone in the house with a man he didn't know. What would stop Mr. Schuester from reaching the same conclusion as Blaine's father? That Blaine was just a worthless, unlovable, disposable punching bag? What would stop Will from lashing out at Blaine with his fists any time Blaine made a mistake? What…what if Will waited until Blaine was asleep and was unguarded in his bed at night and came in? Forced Blaine to pleasure him? How was Blaine to know if Will was any different from the other adults he knew? Realizing how long he'd been silent, Blaine locked eyes with Will, opening his mouth, closing it immediately, only to open it again and finally snapping it shut.

Unwittingly, he began to shake. Images of Will creeping into his bed at night, forcing himself on Blaine began to flash through his troubled mind. He couldn't get the picture of Will screaming insults at him, and throwing him against a wall and, and, and…

"Blaine?" Will questioned worriedly when he notice the drastic change in the boy's demeanor. He strode over to the bed, not knowing what was going through the his head at the time, not realizing that every step he took closer to Blaine was making it worse on him.

Blaine watched the man who had suddenly turned into his father creep closer to his. He tried to cry out, but no sound left his mouth. There was supposed to be a guard outside the room to keep this from happening. Puck had said there was a policeman outside. Puck had said his father wasn't allowed near him. Why had Puck so blatantly lied to him? His father stalked towards the bed, and Blaine's eyes could only focus on the man's fists. He knew they were going to strike him at any moment.

Will stopped in his tracks when Blaine's mouth opened and he let out a bone chilling scream, filled with absolute terror.

"Please! Don't! Please, just leave me alone! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Whatever I did, I'm sorry! Please don't hurt me, get away from me!" Blaine was so focused on the imaginary sight before him, that his body didn't register the pain it brought him as he scrambled off the bed, yanking IVs out of his body, causing the needles that were inserted in his veins to be viciously ripped out, leaving gaping wounds in his forearms. He fell on the floor in a tangle of broken limbs and thin, clear IV tubes. Unsuccessfully, Blaine tried to stand, only to realize his legs were so messed up that was impossible. On his one good hand and knee, and with his other hand which was wrapped in gauze and his other knee which was shattered, Blaine began to half crawl, half drag himself towards the bathroom in the far corner of his room. He had to get away, he had to hide from his father before he was killed. He wouldn't give that man the satisfaction of killing him.

Somehow, he managed to make it to the bathroom, where he locked the door, and drug himself into the corner, squeezed tight between the tiled wall and the toilet. He heard someone at the door and fell into even more of a panic as he realized they had a key to unlock it. He wasn't safe. He'd thought maybe he was for a fraction of a second, but he should have known better. He wasn't safe, he would never be safe. "Please, father, please," He cried out as the door opened. He curled into himself, trying to hide, trying to blend into the wall, but he knew it was hopeless when he saw that the man who entered wasn't his father. It was Bruce, and Jimmy was quick on his heels. Blaine saw something shiny and silver in Bruce's hand. He had a needle. Why did he have a needle? What was he going to do with it?

All Blaine could think about was the time a couple months ago when his father had left for the weekend on a business trip, and left Jimmy and Bruce at the house with Blaine, because obviously a seventeen year old couldn't be trusted for three days and two nights. They'd forced pills down Blaine's throat. Pills Blaine had later realized had been Viagra and Ecstasy. Then they'd spent the whole weekend abusing his body, and laughing at Blaine because his erection was proof that he wanted it, that he was enjoying it. Blaine felt the bile rising up in his throat as he remembered them videotaping it, and forcing him to watch it. Literally holding his eyes open, and making him watch them repeatedly rape him on a TV screen that was so obnoxiously large that it made it all look that much worse. No detail was left out in the high definition, and Bruce and Jimmy both made sure that Blaine didn't miss how hard he himself was, that he didn't miss how they'd forced orgasm after orgasm out him. Mocking him for enjoying it, for wanting it, for asking for it, because why else would he come? He was required to watch hours and hours of footage of his own body betraying him due to the drugs that the men had put in his system.

So all Blaine could do as he watched them coming near him with a needle full of a clear, unrecognizable liquid was close his eyes tight and scream and fight them off to no avail. The last thing he saw before he drifted off into unconsciousness were the malicious, laughing faces of his father, Bruce and Jimmy, the three men he despised the most.


	21. Nothing

_A/N: Short. Filler. Sorry!_

* * *

><p>Will couldn't do anything but watch helplessly as Blaine locked himself in the tiny bathroom. Dr. Weiss had rushed towards the room at the first scream, but by the time he and a nurse had made it in, Blaine was too far gone to see reality, and only saw what his mind made him see. Fishing a master key out of his pocket, Dr. Weiss unlocked the bathroom, and found the teen wedged into the corner, trembling violently, begging them to stay away. He didn't seem to realize who they were, and when his eyes fell on the needle the nurse held in her hand, he went into hysterics.<p>

Dr. Weiss didn't want to cause Blaine any more physical pain, or give him another reason to freak out, but he was forced to grip Blaine up as gently as he could, trying to hold Blaine's arms from striking the nurse, as she pushed the needle into his upper arm, releasing a quick acting sedative into his system.

Blaine's screams died away, and his struggling ceased as he lapsed against Dr. Weiss, knocked out by the drug. With the help of the nurse, Dr. Weiss managed to get Blaine out of the bathroom and back into the bed. IVs were re-inserted, and the machines checking his vital signs were re-attached and hooked back up. Will still stood, frozen in his spot, watching it all transpire.

"What the hell was that?" He asked in a choked voice when Dr. Weiss stopped fiddling with the machines long enough to look up at Will.

"My best guess? A flashback. Something set off a memory in his subconscious. His mind made him see something that wasn't there. When he looked at you or me or Nurse Laurel, I doubt he was seeing any of us."

"What caused it?"

"I don't know. You may have said something or done something that triggered it in him, or it could have been any number of random things. Anything can set off a flashback, even something simple. Say one of the men abusing him once wore a green shirt while doing so, then the sight of someone in a green shirt could set something in his mind off. Posttraumatic Stress Disorder and flashbacks are not uncommon in abuse patients. It was certainly something I was hoping we wouldn't have to deal with, as it will make Blaine's psychological healing that much harder, but I can't say I'm entirely surprised," Dr. Weiss explained, the exhaustion thick in his voice.

"He's going to be out for awhile, the sedative we gave him was fairly strong. Your best bet may be to just come home, and try back tomorrow and we can see where we're at then, okay?"

Will reluctantly agreed, but he was still shaken. If he couldn't even walk towards Blaine in a hospital without setting off warning bells and fear in his head, than how was Blaine ever going to feel at ease in his house? And Will didn't exactly have a full staff of doctors and nurses with sedatives and know how in restriction to subdue Blaine whenever flashbacks hit him.

With a heavy heart and a mind full of worries, Will decided to head over to Noah's and make sure he was okay. He'd never seen Noah freak out and run before. Noah had always been the resident badass of McKinley High and the fact that he suddenly couldn't handle seeing some kid he barely knew lying in a hospital bed drove Will to worry a little bit about him.

* * *

><p>Puck was relaxed on his bed, with a textbook open next to him so that anytime his mom poked her head in it looked like he was studying. Of course, he had a copy of Playboy hidden behind the textbook, but that wasn't the point.<p>

"Noah," His mom interrupted him, and from underneath the covers Puck yanked his hand out of his boxers, and tried not to look guilty.

"Yeah, Ma?"

"You're glee teacher is here to see you."

"What? Why?" At the sight of his mother and the mention of his teacher, Puck had no problem extricating himself from underneath the covers without worrying about an inappropriate bulge that his mom would think had come from his Earth Science book.

"I don't know, but he's in the living room, so you can ask him yourself," His mom disappeared from the door, and he heard her heels clicking on the hard surface of the kitchen a few minutes later.

Puck groaned, but padded out into the living room to see what Schue wanted anyway.

"I'm leaving for work, behave," His mom told him as she whisked out the front door before Puck could even greet Mr. Schuester.

"Bye," He mumbled to the closed door. He turned to his glee coach, cocking his head and an eyebrow at the same time. "Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Schue?"

"Yes, actually. You can tell me why you hightailed it out of the hospital today. That's nothing like the Noah Puckerman I've come to know," Will answered.

"Homework," Puck shrugged.

"Bullshit," Will stated, surprising Puck. "You were freaked out about seeing Blaine. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I know you dealt with similar issues with your dad, and I thought maybe all of this was just bringing up too much from your past."

"Well don't beat around the bush," Puck grumbled.

"Noah," Will stood up, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder and capturing his eyes. "Are you handling all of this okay?"

Puck brushed Mr. Schue away, and gave an indignant huff. "I'm fine. I'm not the one we need to worry about, Blaine is. You've seen him, Mr. Schue. He looks, he looks," Puck faltered, searching for the right word. "He looks destroyed."

"He had a flashback while I was with him tonight," Will admitted accidentally.

"What?"

"While I was in the room with him, he had a flashback. Neither I nor the doctor knows what set it off, but he was pretty convinced I was his father. He locked himself in the bathroom. Dr. Weiss had to use his key to get into him and then sedate him, because he seemed under the impression that Dr. Weiss and Nurse Laurel were Bruce and Jimmy."

"Fuck!" Puck swore.

"I had an idea," Will ventured, sounding unsure of himself, and effectively peaking Puck's curiosity, who motioned for Mr. Schue to continue when he made no attempt to elaborate.

"I was thinking, that maybe, when Blaine is released from the hospital, whenever that is, that maybe, either, he could stay here with you for awhile or you could come stay at my house with me and him for awhile."

Puck arched a brow," Why?" He asked, before answering his own question. "He's not going to feel safe around just you."

"Exactly. I'm an adult male. I'm the one person in the world that Blaine has been taught to fear and not trust. You said it yourself, in his eyes, I'm the enemy. I was thinking if you were around it could make the transition easier."

"But why me? Why not Kurt? Him and Kurt are closer."

"Superficially, yes," Will agreed. "But if Blaine sees someone like you, someone who has been in a similar situation trusting me, then maybe he'll learn to trust me as well. Yes, he and Kurt know more of the ins and outs of each other's personalities. But you can actually understand where Blaine is, where he's coming from more than Kurt can ever hope to. And Blaine will pick up on that. He will pick up on the fact that another guy who has had an abusive father is okay with me and trusts me, and maybe that will be enough to convince Blaine to trust me."

Puck pondered everything for a moment. "I'll talk to Ma. I doubt Blaine can stay here, we're pretty cramped with just the two of us, and I'm sure you've noticed my Ma isn't the friendliest and open person around. But I think she'd understand and be okay with me staying at your place for as long as needed."

"Thanks," Will said, looking relieved. "Noah, are you sure you're okay? Is anything else going on with you that I should be worrying about?"

Puck shook his head unconvincingly. "Nope. I'm fine. Just freaked out over Blaine and the memories it brings up." No one could ever say that Noah Puckerman wasn't an amazing actor.

Will leveled Puck with a gaze, knowing he was being lied to. "Okay," He said slowly. "But you know if there's anything you need to, uh, discuss that you don't feel comfortable talking to your mom or your friends about….well, just know I'm here for you, okay?"

"Yup. Got it Mr. Schue. But I'm one hundred percent fine," Puck plastered a fake smile on his face. "I do need to get back to homework though, or else I will fail my senior year."

"Okay," Will replied, still unable to force the gnawing sense that something else was going on in Noah's mind from his thoughts. "I'll see you at achool tomorrow."

"Sounds great!" Puck said with false cheeriness, as he showed his teacher to the door. "Catch ya later, Mr. Schue!" He closed the door behind Mr. Schuester, and then slumped against it, spent.

He didn't even know what had gotten to him earlier, so he wasn't about to talk to Mr. Schuester about it. All Puck knew for sure was that he hadn't known Blaine long enough, nor did he know him well enough, to be as worried about him as he currently was. And that was freaking him the fuck out.

* * *

><p>Blaine slowly opened his eyes, and then quickly re-shut them when they were hit with an unforgiving stream of direct sunlight. Someone really needed to shut those damn blinds. Reluctantly, he pried his eyes open again, blearily looking around the room and cursing the sun for having the gall to rise and annoy him.<p>

"Blaine. Good to see you awake," A vaguely familiar voice said from his left side. Blaine turned and saw his doctor, whose name he couldn't conjure at that exact moment.

Blaine stifled a groan. "What happened? Last I remember is Santana spraying me with some disgusting body spray," He asked, noting how raw his voice was and how much it scratched his throat just to ask one simple question.

"You don't have any memory of locking yourself in the bathroom, thinking Will was your father, and that the nurse and I were his friends?"

Blaine didn't until Dr. Weiss brought it up, and then he was hit with vivid images he'd rather not revisit. So he shook his head no.

"Alright, that's fine. Dr. Delaney will be in a little bit to talk with you. Do you remember her from your last stay?"

Blaine nodded reluctantly, wishing he could fast talk his way out of meeting with the therapist, but knowing it would be impossible.

"Good. I'll let her know you're awake, in the meantime, I had the nurse leave you some lunch," Dr. Weiss motioned towards the tray that held food that looked anything but appealing to Blaine. "I'll come back to check on you after your session, and then we'll let you get some sleep before your friends start showing up, sound good?"

Blaine didn't reply, since he knew that his input really wouldn't change things anyway.

"Okay," Dr. Weiss said slowly. "Eat something Blaine." He called over his shoulder as he left.

Blaine made a face at the doctor's back , and didn't touch the food sitting on the tray next to him.

It wasn't long before there was a knock at Blaine's door. Blaine waited to see if they would actually wait for him to admit them entrance or just barge in like everyone else, so he was slightly taken aback when the knock sounded again.

"It's open."

"Hi, Blaine. Do you remember me?"

Blaine glanced at the intruder. "Dr. Delaney."

"Good. That makes things much easier. How are you feeling?" She questioned with sincerity in her voice as she sat in a chair a few feet from his bed, and looked at him.

"Great," Blaine replied. "Awesome."

Dr. Delaney had been in the business long enough that she took his sarcasm with a grain of salt and didn't comment on it. "What all do you remember about the period from when you were first released from the hospital up until you woke up here again?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing at all?" She pushed, ever so slightly.

"I remember Brittany picking me up and dropping me off at home. That's about it until I woke up and saw Puck's face entirely too close to my own."

Dr. Delaney didn't believe the boy for a second, but again she let the subject drop. She knew she needed to break through his barriers and build up his trust before he would be honest and open with her, and pushing him to talk about things he didn't want to talk about was not the way to reach that point.

"It looks like I interrupted your lunch. Please feel free to eat while we talk," She offered.

"I'm not really hungry," Blaine responded, shooting the food a dirty look which was quickly turned on the therapist.

"You haven't eaten a bite since you woke up according to Dr. Weiss. If you don't like the food, I can go find something you may enjoy a little more."

"I'm not hungry," Blaine repeated stubbornly.

Dr. Delaney sighed inwardly, but didn't let Blaine see her frustration, as she decided to try another approach. "So tell me about yourself. What do you like to do in your free time?"

"Music," Blaine replied quietly, being honest for the first time.

"You like music? Listening to it or creating it?"

"Both," Blaine said after a beat, before clamming up again.

"Do you play any intrusments? Or do you sing? Or do you write music?" Dr. Delaney made her best attempt at getting something other than a one word answer.

"I play guitar. And drums, piano, bass, saxophone, cello, harmonica," Blaine ticked off pretty much every instrument Dr. Delaney had ever heard of before he stopped sheepishly. "Sorry. I uh, I also sing. And write songs."

"That's wonderful, Blaine. You sound like a very talented young man.

At first, Blaine looked pleased with the honest compliment, but his features quickly became shadowed. "I guess all I do now though is sing. I won't be playing anything when I barely have my right hand." This was the first time the thought had occurred to Blaine, and it dawned on him that his father may have managed to rip away one of the last true joys he'd had in his life. You couldn't play most instruments one handed. Not well, at least. He felt like he had nothing left to lose these these days. Everything had been taken from him by either his father, Jimmy or Bruce.

"It's okay to be mad," Dr. Delaney told Blaine, watching the emotions on his face, and having a good idea at what was going through his mind right then. "You have every right to be angry."

Blaine's only response was to close his eyes and shake his head. "Can we not do this now?" He pleaded softly, his voice sounding heartbroken and exhausted.

"We can talk some more tomorrow, how's that?"

Blaine didn't open his eyes, but gave a quick dip of his chin in thanks.

"You will get through this, Blaine," Dr. Delaney said before she left. "I promise, together we'll make it through. You have friends that care and will help you every step of the way."


	22. Fathers

_A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating. Busy weekend. No promises on Chapter 23 either, I work all week, and then have plans with my kid on the weekend, as well as having to go on a blind set up date Saturday night…Apparently my friends decided I divorced in May, time to get back into the dating game. At least the man is good looking, and if his personality sucks, I'll get haunted houses and free beer out of the deal though, eh?_

_Thanks to Jess (Southern Hemmy) for her help on this chapter...off to catch up on the other one and e-mail you back now, I swear!_

_Anyone else who's interested in being a sounding board and helping me with ideas prompts, feel free to drop a PM my way, help is always welcomed!_

* * *

><p>"Okay, let's be honest here. This, it isn't working," Will clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. <em>Hell is for Children<em> is sounding amazing, but _He_ just isn't working. I think it's time we started searching for a different song for Sectionals."

Everyone was silent, glancing around at each other, hoping someone else had an idea since they didn't.

"I had an idea for two songs we could do, that I think we'd be good at it. They don't exactly fit in with theme of bringing light to abuse, but they could work. They could be interpreted to being about moving on with life after abuse, putting things in the past. It might be a bit of a stretch, but-"

"Jesus, Puck, quit trying to use big words and be insightful and just tell us the songs already," Santana interrupted him, still aggravated about being ditched at the hospital yesterday.

"Here I Go Again by Whitesnake and Changes by David Bowie."

Will mulled the songs over in his head for a minute, before breaking into a grin. "I like it. Both of them. Let's try them and see which one works best."

Glee ran late that night as they sang the songs, trying out what worked and what didn't. In the end they chose to go with Whitesnake, and, much to Rachel's dismay, Will announced that Puck would be singing lead in it.

"Give it a rest, Rachel. You're doing the lead in the Pat Benatar song, so can the diva go take a nap or something for a couple weeks? We're all tired and we need to get to the hospital, so just shut up," Kurt finally snapped at her.

Rachel's mouth fell open, and she huffed out of the room.

"Whatever, let her go," Kurt muttered.

"I'm going to go talk to her. I think I'm going to skip out on the hospital tonight, maybe spend some time with Rachel," Finn informed Kurt before hurrying after his girlfriend.

"Alright, kids. Good rehearsal, I'll see you all tomorrow," Will dismissed everyone tiredly. Kurt, Puck, And Brittany hung back, though, wanting to head over to see Blaine.

"Where's Santana?" Will asked.

"Babysitting," Brittany replied.

"Let's just carpool, I have plenty of room in my car, and I doubt either Puck's or Will's car can take many more of these trips without breaking down," Kurt offered.

Puck looked offended, but Will laughed good naturedly. "Sounds good. Let's go, guys."

* * *

><p>Blaine had fallen into a fitful sleep after Dr. Delaney had left. He was pretty much stuck in one position, and even that wasn't a comfortable one. The pressure on his back was getting to be too much, so he struggled to sit up when he decided that sleep was not going to happen. Between the discomfort, and the images that appeared every time he closed his eyes, it just was not a valid option.<p>

He managed to get into a somewhat inclined position, just as a nurse came in chirping about changing his bandages. It wasn't the nurse he was used to, and she was entirely too cheerful for Blaine's liking, but the part of him that had been trained to do whatever was asked of him without question grudgingly allowed her to begin the grueling process. Blaine bit down on the inside of his cheek, trying to focus on the pain that caused and not the pain that was brought upon by the bandages being peeled off his raw skin.

"Shit, sorry, man!" Blaine heard someone say.

Blaine looked up and saw Puck standing frozen in the doorway. The look on his face showed that he thought he should leave, but he seemed hypnotized by something.

"It's fine," Blaine grunted, trying to ignore the pain. "You can either leave and shut the door or come in, but please don't stand there with the door open."

Puck looked torn, but in the end, he closed the door and came in.

"Sorry, man, but that looks really painful," Puck admitted.

"It is," Blaine said through teeth that were clamped together tightly as he tried to focus on anything but the pain.

Puck ambled over until he was next to Blaine's bed, and without really thinking, he held his hand out. "Show me how much it hurts," He urged as Blaine's face squinted in pain.

Blaine gave him an unreadable look, and ignored his hand for a moment, until the nurse started prying off the gauze on his own hand. Without thinking, Blaine took his good hand and gripped Puck's in his own, squeezing for all he was worth.

Puck tried his best to ignore the electricity he felt when Blaine gripped his hand in his own, and he tried even harder to not think about what it meant. He was just empathizing with the other boy, it didn't mean shit other than that he felt sorry for Blaine.

Blaine didn't turn to look at him, but waited until the nurse finished and left, and quickly dropped the other boy's hand before speaking. "Tell me it gets better, Puck. Tell me all stops hurting so much."

Puck took in the other boy's appearance and wished he could lie to him. "I can't," Puck admitted. "It get's…not better, but maybe easier to deal with over time? I can give you that much. But honestly, Blaine, it never stops hurting. Sure, the pain dulls after awhile, but it still hurts."

Blaine was silent for so long that Puck was about to leave, thinking maybe he'd fallen asleep. "I tried so hard. To be what he wanted, you know? To be what everyone wanted, what everyone expected. But I was never good enough. I'll never be good enough no matter how much I try."

"That's bullshit, Blaine. You know it's bullshit. They're…they're fucked up. It's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. You need to see that. You need to understand that. You did absolutely nothing wrong, man."

"Obviously I did," Blaine responded in a soft voice.

"Blaine," Puck said, stopping after he said his name, not knowing where to go from there.

Blaine finally tore his eyes away from the wall opposite Puck he'd been staring at intently. "Don't you get it, Puck? I'm damaged goods now. Look at me! I can't even sit up on my own! Fuckin' _Santana_ had to put deodorant on me for fuck's sake. I'm worthless. I don't matter. And they made damn sure everyone knew that."

"It's all in the eye of the beholder," Puck commented, thinking of something his Aunt had told him after his dad had left.

Blaine gave him a questioning look, and Puck expanded. "Yeah, Blaine. To your dad, to his friends, you are worthless. I won't lie to you and tell you otherwise. But no one else sees you that way. You mean so much to everyone else who knows you that the thoughts and actions of a few drunken piece of shit men shouldn't even hit your radar, alright?"

"None of you know me," Blaine responded in a voice void of emotion.

"Doesn't mean we don't care," Puck shot back.

Both boys startled when the door opened, and Mr. Schuester stuck his head in. "Is it okay if we come in?" He addressed Blaine. Blaine gave a half shrug with his one good shoulder, and Will let himself in, Kurt and Brittany on his heels. He had something in his hand, which he held out to Blaine.

"Kurt's dad towed your car to his shop, he's gonna work on it while you're in here. I found this, and thought you may like to have it."

Blaine smiled when he saw it was his iPod.

"I even brought you some speakers and headphones," Will held up a Radio Shack bag and jiggled it.

Puck grinned, taking the bag from his teacher, and quickly setting them up before he took Blaine's iPod from him. "Let's see what music you listen to, Pretty Boy." He hit play and set it in the dock.

_Must be something they're hiding__  
><em>_Must be reasons that no one will dare to tell__  
><em>_Must be something inside me__  
><em>_But I don't think so anymore__  
><em>_It's hurting again now__  
><em>_And I don't need friends when I have foes like you__  
><em>_It's hurting again now__  
><em>_It's killing me to be here all alone__  
><em>_Go away__  
><em>_It's all the same__  
><em>_There's more for me_

_As the world falls away, and I can't find a reason__  
><em>_As the world turns to grey__  
><em>_It's killing me unwillingly and I am just the same as you_

_Must be something confided__  
><em>_Must be someway to feel the pain and heal again__  
><em>_Pain and pleasure, inviting__  
><em>_I don't think so anymore__  
><em>_It's hurting again now__  
><em>_And I don't need pills__  
><em>_When I have drugs like you__  
><em>_It's hurting again now__  
><em>_It's killing me to be here all alone_

_Go away__  
><em>_It's all the same__  
><em>_There's more for me__  
><em>_As the world falls away, and I can't find a reason__  
><em>_As the world turns to grey__  
><em>_It's killing me unwillingly and I am just afraid__  
><em>_As the world falls away, and I can't find a reason__  
><em>_As the world turns to grey__  
><em>_Your killing me unwillingly and I am just the same as you...as you!_

_I'm just like you, just not a fool__  
><em>_I'm just like you, just not as cool__  
><em>_I'm just like you, just not a fool__  
><em>_I'm just like you..._

_As the world falls away, and I can't find a reason__  
><em>_As the world turns to grey__  
><em>_It's killing me unwillingly and I am just afraid__  
><em>_As the world falls away, and I can't find a reason__  
><em>_As the world turns to grey__  
><em>_Your killing me unwillingly and I am just the same as you__  
><em>_I'm just like you, just not a fool__  
><em>_I'm just like you...__  
><em>_Shut up!_

Blaine had laid his head back on his pillow, closing his eyes, and singing along in a raw voice. But it was the first time since he'd sung _Hallelujah_ with Puck that Puck had seen anything resembling a peaceful look on his face.

When the song came to an end and another started up, Will cleared his throat. "Guys, could you give Blaine and me a moment alone?"

The serene look on the teen's face was quickly replaced by one of apprehension, but the three New Direction's simply nodded, and filed back into the waiting room.

"Blaine can I ask you a question and get an honest answer from you?" Will asked once the door was closed and they were alone.

"Depends," Blaine said suspiciously.

"Fair enough. When you're released from the hospital, are you going to be okay living with me, or do we need to look into alternate options?"

Blaine looked up at Will, shock written on his face. He wasn't used to his opinions or feelings mattering much to anyone in a position of power over him. He considered Will's question's before answering. "I don't know. I don't know you. I'm sorry, I'm not saying you aren't a good guy, but I know my father a lot better than you, and I can't trust him so I don't have any reason to trust you."

Will was slightly taken aback, since he felt like that was the most honest Blaine had ever been with him, but he was thrilled that Blaine at least felt like he could speak his mind and not hide behind that damn mask for five seconds. "I get that, Blaine. I do. Neither of us know each other, we've both been thrown into an awkward position, and you have absolutely no reason to trust that I'm any better of a person than your dad or his friends. I can tell you I would never do what they did to you until I'm blue in the face, but we both know it wouldn't make a difference."

"So where's that leave me? Eventually, they're gonna kick me out of the hospital. I can't just live here," Blaine said in a pained voice.

"I had a thought. And I already discussed it with Noah. He was going to come and stay with us at my apartment when you're released, until the time comes that you feel comfortable with it being just the two of us."

Blaine was still a moment, the look on his face indecipherable. Then he began to shake his head. "No. No I'm not okay with that. I don't need a fuckin' babysitter, watching to make sure I don't freak out because I'm alone in the house with some man I don't know. I'm not some fragile fuckin' charity case."

"That's not what this is about, Blaine, I promise you. You aren't a charity case, and Noah isn't your babysitter. We are just searching for a way to make the transition as easy on you as possible. You've been put through more in your life than I can even begin to imagine. But not Noah. Noah's situation, his dad, no, they were nowhere near as bad as yours, I'll give you that, but he at least understands a bit more than I or anyone else can hope to. He's been through some of it. He can help to show you that I am not your enemy, Blaine. I only want the best for you. I only want to help you."

"I don't need your help! You're not my father!" Blaine yelled, wiping furiously at his eyes, willing away the tears so he wouldn't look weak.

"No, Blaine, I'm not, and thank God for that. I don't want to be your dad and I'm not trying to be your dad. Your dad is an asshole. He is a pathetic excuse for a human being, a man and a father. He did things to you that no one, absolutely no one, deserves to be put through. He deserves to rot in a jail cell and then hell for just a fraction of the things he's done to you in your life. So believe me when I tell you I'm not interested in being your dad."

Blaine went silent at Will's outburst, and didn't say anything for a moment, merely reached his hand towards his head and gripped the bear Brittany had given him, as if trying to draw power from it. "Can I see Puck?" He asked, ignoring everything Will had just told him.

Will gave a sad smile, and got up to fetch Puck.

* * *

><p>Blaine watched Will leave, and sunk farther into his pillow, feeling far more lost than he'd ever remembered feeling. He was torn and confused. Mr. Schuester seemed trustworthy, but hell, if he was meeting his father for the first time he'd come away with the impression that the man was nothing but an upstanding citizen and a great family man. So why should he think that Will was anything less than an amazing actor, like his father and his friends?<p>

Blaine was pulled from his thoughts when Puck came strutting in, yanking the chair near his bed out, and straddling it backwards.

"So what's going on, Anderson?"

"Can you drop the 'I'm a badass ' routine for a second?" Blaine asked.

Puck offered up a half smirk, and straightened up. "What do you need, Blaine?" He asked.

"I don't know. I just, I need to know that things can become okay. That you're offering to stay at Will's with me as a friend, not as some type of twisted barrier or babysitter."

Puck looked thoughtful, and finally he answered Blaine. "I took Mr. Schuester up on his offer because I've been where you are. I know what it's like to see everyone as the enemy. To be scared to go to sleep at night, to not know who to trust, to be scared shitless all the damn time. Schue' a good guy. Just give him a chance to prove that to you."

Puck watched the emotions play out on Blaine's face, and quickly added, "Blaine, I'll be there for whatever reason you need me to be there. Be that a friend, a brother, a barrier or something in between. Just let us show you that we only want to see you safe and happy."

Blaine pulled his gaze away from the other boy, and looked out the window. Studying the trees which were slowly losing their leaves as summer teasingly made it's way into fall, Blaine responded as if Puck hadn't even spoken.

"Can I just be alone for a few minutes? If Kurt or Brittany want to come in in a little that's fine, but for now can I please just be left alone?"

"Yeah, man, no problem," Puck stood up, then looked down at Blaine, wishing he could say something more to make him feel better, to make him know he was safe, But he knew from experience that words were just that. Words. They wouldn't make a difference. Blaine needed to see action, he needed to see commitment, and Puck was determined to give him that.

* * *

><p>"This is ridiculous, I'm going in," Kurt huffed, when Puck relayed Blaine's message to give him a few minutes later.<p>

"Just let him chill for a bit. He's entitled to time by himself," Puck responded exasperatedly.

"He always seems to let you come right on in," Kurt replied tightly, one perfectly groomed eyebrow arched in a practiced motion.

"Yeah, because I had an abusive dick of a dad as well. Jesus, Kurt, this isn't a Godamn popularity contest. He's been through hell and back recently. Fuck he's been through hell his entire life, so if he wants some damn peace and quiet for ten minutes, I think he's earned it."

Kurt harrumphed a second time, but sat down primly in one of the chairs, crossing his legs at the ankles, and impatiently tapping his fingernails on the table next to him, watching the clock tick.

Puck shook his head, annoyed, and was about to give a nasty comment about Kurt watching the clock when he saw someone about to go into Blaine's room out of the corner of his eye. The policeman was earning his paycheck as he once again, slept soundly in the chair next to the door, unaware of who was trying to go in. Puck felt his blood boil, and he rushed over to the door, gripping the man's arm, and yanking him away.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Puck growled at him, shaking off Mr. Schuester who was trying to pull him away.

The policeman startled awake, and blearily rubbed at his eyes, blinking rapidly, trying to catch up with the scene in front of him. Kurt and Brittany sat rigidly in their seats, their faces frozen with fear.

"I don't think that's any of your business, boy," The man snarled in response.

"Well it sure as hell is my business, seeing as I'm the legal guardian for Blaine, and it's also this police officer's business, seeing as you aren't allowed within one hundred feet of Blaine," Will stepped in between Puck and Blaine's dad.

"Hey feel free to jump in and help at anytime," Puck sneered at the cop.

The cop jumped out of his seat, finally coherent and alert, leaping into action.

"Sir, I'm afraid you need to leave this hospital. You are in violation of your bail by being this close to your son, and I'm asking you to leave on your own."

"And if I don't?" Mr. Anderson smirked.

"Then I will forcibly remove you from this hospital, and then arrest you and will you await your time until trial in a jail cell."

Will knew exactly who had helped Blaine perfect his glare when he saw the look Mr. Anderson threw at the policeman. "Fine," He relented, knowing he was outnumbered. "You can't hide forever you little shit!" He yelled before leaving.

Will and Puck turned and realized the door had been ajar this whole time, and Blaine had seen his dad. His face was ashen, and he was trembling in his bed, eyes squeezed shut tight and the bear gripped in his hand so hard his knuckles were white.

* * *

><p><em>Lyrics from the song on Blaine's iPod were taken from <strong>World Falls Away<strong> by **Seether**._

_Lyrics to **Whitesnake**'s **Here I Go Again** (For those of you who either live under a rock, aren't as old as me, or merely have shitty taste in music and don't know the song) are:_

_I don't know where I'm going__  
><em>_But I sure know where I've been__  
><em>_Hanging on the promises__  
><em>_In songs of yesterday__  
><em>_And I've made up my mind,__  
><em>_I ain't wasting no more time__  
><em>_But here I go again__  
><em>_Here I go again_

_Though I keep searching for an answer,__  
><em>_I never seem to find what I'm looking for__  
><em>_Oh Lord, I pray__  
><em>_You give me strength to carry on,__  
><em>_'Cause I know what it means__  
><em>_To walk along the lonely street of dreams_

_And here I go again on my own__  
><em>_Going down the only road I've ever known,__  
><em>_Like a drifter I was born to walk alone__  
><em>_And I've made up my mind__  
><em>_I ain't wasting no more time_

_I'm just another heart in need of rescue,__  
><em>_Waiting on love's sweet charity__  
><em>_And I'm gonna hold on__  
><em>_For the rest of my days,__  
><em>_'Cause I know what it means__  
><em>_To walk along the lonely street of dreams_

_And here I go again on my own__  
><em>_Going down the only road I've ever known,__  
><em>_Like a drifter I was born to walk alone__  
><em>_And I've made up my mind__  
><em>_I ain't wasting no more time_

_But, here I go again,__  
><em>_Here I go again,__  
><em>_Here I go again,__  
><em>_Here I go..._

__'Cause I know what it means__  
><em>_To walk along the lonely street of dreams__

_And here I go again on my own__  
><em>_Going down the only road I've ever known,__  
><em>_Like a drifter I was born to walk alone__  
><em>__And I've made up my mind__  
><em>_I ain't wasting no more time__

_And here I go again on my own__  
><em>_Going down the only road I've ever known,__  
><em>_Like a drifter I was born to walk alone_


	23. Progress

_A/N: Yes, it's short. Yes, it's not my best writing. However, it is an actual update for the first time in over a month. Sorry for the delay, but I have been blocked like you wouldn't believe, and busy as hell lately. This is a filler, and I do apologize for that, however, it is going to get me to where I want to be, what I am looking forward to writing, and what I already have mostly mapped out, so (hopefully, no promises) updates will be at least semi regular again. I'm aiming for once a week, with a new chapter tomorrow or Sunday at the latest to kick all that off! _

* * *

><p>Will cursed, and turned to Puck. "Go check on Blaine, see how he is, all of you," He motioned to Kurt and Brittany as well, before turning to leave.<p>

"Where are you going?" Puck asked.

"To find Dr. Weiss."

"What do we do? Is he going to freak if we go in there?" Brittany asked, motioning towards where Blaine lay in the bed, trembling, his hands gripping the sides and his eyes squeezed shut.

Puck shrugged, and glanced at Kurt, who shook his head, baffled at what to do as well. Taking a deep breath, and hoping for the best, Puck entered the room slowly, motioning for Kurt and Brittany to follow him. "Blaine?" He asked softly, stopping a couple feet from his bed.

Blaine turned his head, opening his eyes, allowing them to roam over the faces of his friends, eventually locking eyes with Puck. "Get me out of here. Please. I can't stay here, he knows where I am, I'm not safe." His voice was soft, with a slight waver, but his tone was decisive.

Puck and Kurt exchanged uneasy glances. "Dude," Puck began, but was interrupted by Dr. Weiss who came strolling in with Will.

"I think that's actually exactly what needs to happen here, Blaine."

Five sets of eyes suddenly turned on the doctor, baffled.

"You want to discharge Blaine from the hospital? He can barely walk!" Will pointed out.

"I'm quite aware of that, thank you Mr. Schuester," Dr. Weiss responded, amused. "Let me clear that up. I don't want to discharge him right this minute. However, I do feel it would be in his best interest if we were to, how shall I say it? Expedite his release. I'm not comfortable with the knowledge that his father knows where he is. So the faster we can get him out of here, and into your home, which I'm assuming he doesn't know the address for, the better it will be for Blaine."

Blaine gave the doctor a look of gratitude, but Dr. Weiss held up his finger. "Before you start trying to pack your bags, though, Blaine, there are two things I need to see happen before I can, in good conscience, sign a release form for you."

"Okay," Blaine said slowly. "What?"

"I need to see progress with your therapist, by which I mean, I need her to inform me that you are cooperating, and being open and honest, and that she sees actual improvement in all areas that you and she are working on. And I also need to see progress with your physical therapist. I will set it up for you to meet with him tomorrow morning, first thing. Then I will set it up with Dr. Delaney for you to meet with her after lunch tomorrow."

Blaine nodded his consent, willing to do whatever it took to get him out of there. He was a Class A liar, so he was sure he could trick Dr. Delaney into thinking she was getting whatever it was she wanted from him, and he was no stranger to pain, so he was also positive that he could power through with PT.

"How long do you expect this to take?" Will asked.

Dr. Weiss took his glasses off, rubbing his eyes, thinking. "If Blaine cooperates and shows real advancement in both areas, I can see it being as early as a week. But it will take hard work and commitment. So, Blaine, can I count on you?"

"Yes sir," Blaine rushed out, nodding vigorously, and trying not to wince in pain, wanting to seem as strong and capable as possible.

"All right, then. I will get your appointments made for the morning, and I look forward to hearing good reports from both Dr. Delaney, and your physical therapist," Dr. Weiss gave a kind smile to Blaine, before leaving the room.

Will hurried out after him, shutting the door behind himself to ensure privacy. "Dr. Weiss, do you honestly think Blaine will be ready, both physically and emotionally to go home in only a week? Have you paid any attention to this kid lately? I can hardly be in a room alone with him without him having a panic attack, and he can't even take a shower yet!" Will hissed, hoping the kids inside the room, especially Blaine, couldn't overhear him.

"Under the circumstances? I don't think we have much of a choice, honestly. If the situation were different, no, I would not be releasing Blaine anytime soon. His psyche is still extremely fragile, I'm worried about the amount of emotional turmoil he is experiencing, and physically, he will need quite a bit of help. I would love to keep him here for at least another month or two, until I'm absolutely sure he is one hundred percent ready to be released. But not only am I worried about Blaine's father knowing where he is, I'm worried about how bad it could be for Blaine emotionally merely knowing that his father knows where he is.

"Will, this is not an ideal situation, as you are more than aware. We have all been forced to make extremely difficult decisions here, but every decision that I, or you, or even his young friends have made have had one thing in common; we have all had nothing but this boy's best interests in mind. And right now, it will be in his best interest for him to be anywhere but at this hospital. Do you understand where I'm coming from? I'm not trying to step over a line, but as his legal guardian, if you say no, then I will not release him. But I implore you to think about why I, and Blaine, want him at your house, where at least he is safe."

"What am I supposed to do as far as work? Blaine can't be left completely alone in my house while I'm at work all day, I'm assuming. And I sure as hell can't afford a home nurse for him."

Dr. Weiss opened his mouth, only to snap it shut a moment later, stumped. It was at that moment that Kurt jumped in the conversation, having come outside without either of the adults realizing someone was eavesdropping.

"My dad and Carole will help. I'm sure of it."

"Kurt," Will whirled around, taken off guard at the sound of his voice.

"Sorry, I wasn't trying to eavesdrop," He held up his phone, looking sheepish. "I wanted to call my dad, actually, and I happened to overhear your conversation. But Carole's work is pretty lenient with time off, and Dad owns his own business, so he can get one of his employees to cover him. I know they'd do whatever they needed to to help out."

"Kurt, I can't ask your parent's to take time off work to babysit a teenager who is now in my care," Will said gently, placing a hand on Kurt's shoulder.

"Maybe not, but _I_ can. Please, Mr. Schuester. They want to help, and this is something they can do."

Will rubbed his temples, but finally nodded. "Alright Kurt, ask them if they could help."


	24. Eggshells

_A/N: Sorry, I have no excuse, no promises, and this isn't the best chapter. I've been trying like hell to not have to do a skip forward, but alas, I gave in. Eventually I will get back on track with this story...I hope..._

* * *

><p><strong>10 Days Later<strong>

"Well, Blaine, are you ready to leave this place?"

"Beyond ready," Blaine gave Dr. Weiss the first real smile he could remember receiving since the boy had come into his care.

"Well, we will see you back here every Monday and Thursday for physical therapy and your meetings with Dr. Delaney. I wish you all the best, Blaine. You have my number, call for any reason, okay?"

"Uh, sure," Blaine lied, shifting his eyes, looking for his out. He was ready to leave and never come back. Well, until Monday, at least, when he knew he would be forced, either by Puck or Mr. Schuester, or both he wasn't sure, but he knew he had no luck of an escape.

"Ready to be roommates, bro?" Puck came strolling into the room at that moment, his Devil-May-Care grin apparent on his handsome face.

Blaine gave a half-hearted grin, and shrugged. "Uh, sure," He replied, overwhelmed and trying his best to cover it up.

Will came in. grinning at Blaine, trying as hard as the teen to cover up his nerves, and clapped his hand decisively. "Alright. Puck is all set up in the guest room, and the other bed is empty and waiting for you, Blaine. So what do you say we go and get settled in?"

"Noah, could you go on and take Blaine down, I need a word with Will," Dr. Weiss asked. Noah nodded and shrugged, grabbing the handles of the wheelchair, taking Mr. Schuester's keys as he passed.

"Wanna see if the wheelchair will stay upright if we push it down steps?" He joked with Blaine as the pair exited the room.

Will smiled watching the two leave, and tried to push away the bundle of nerves in his stomach and the voice telling him he was in way over his head.

"I just had a few things I wanted to go over with you before you take Blaine home. Do you have a few minutes?"

Will turned back towards Dr. Weiss and nodded, sitting in the chair that the doctor pulled out for him.

Dr. Weiss sat down across from him, and pulled out his clipboard, turning a few pages and scanning them before finally sighing, and setting the clipboard to the side. "I just want to make sure you are completely aware of what all you are getting into. How much work and stress this may be. And make sure you have an idea of what to expect and how to handle some situations that may arise. I also want to give you a chance to ask me any questions you may have."

"Okay," Will said slowly, nodding along.

" Let's start off with the easiest and work our way to the more serious. His physical therapy is coming along wonderful as we've already discussed. He's been given a list of daily exercises and I need you to make sure he is sticking to it. He's healing better than expected, but he still can barely walk on his own, even with the crutches. I don't want him showering yet, because of all the casts. So stick to washcloths, and the like, like we have been doing.

"The only physical aspect I'm still very worried about is his hand. I'm afraid there isn't much more we can do, so you need to keep on him about practicing using his left hand for writing and every day tasks. He also needs to start working more on relying on working things one handed. I'm afraid that it just is not looking likely that he will ever regain use of that hand. Not completely, if any at all, and I don't want to give him false hope." Dr. Weiss paused, allowing everything he'd said to sink in with Will.

"So is his hand paralyzed, or…" Will let the question taper off and hang in the air.

"Not exactly. The burn was so bad that it destroyed all of his nerve endings, and muscle. I know you haven't seen his hand without the gauze, Blaine seems to be rather sensitive about anyone seeing it other than the nurses when they change the bandages, but it's bad."

Will nodded absently, and felt his heart drop. The last thing Blaine needed was another obstacle. He knew how much music meant to Blaine, and he'd heard from Kurt how amazing he was at pretty much every instrument, and he had a feeling that losing the ability to play was going to destroy the boy. Just another thing his dad had managed to rip away from him. Will knew there was going to be a breakdown about this at some point, and he only hoped he'd know what to say to comfort Blaine when that time came.

"Will?"

"Yeah, uh, yes, sorry. Go on," Will shot Dr. Weiss an apologetic smile, but the doctor just waved it off and gave a kind smile in return.

"Now. The more serious issues. Mainly, his past drug abuse and addiction, his eating disorder, his self harm tendencies, and his PTSD. Any one of these mental issues would be tough to handle by themselves, even if he was in perfect physical condition. But we're looking at trying to overcome all of these with a teenage boy that barely knows you, doesn't trust you, is going to be completely dependent on those around him for the most mundane daily tasks, and who is, let's face it, just a little stubborn.

"I've asked Dr. Delaney to come in and talk over his progress, and how you and Noah, and whoever else stays with him can be of the best help and the most support, because this is her area of expertise," Dr, Weiss glanced towards the door where the young therapist had just appeared. "And speaking of. Dr. Delaney, you may take it from here," Dr. Weiss leaned back in his chair, as Dr. Delaney clicked into the room and sat in an empty chair so that the three of them formed a small circle.

"Mr. Schuester, always a pleasure," She chirped.

Will gave her a tight lipped smile in return. "Well, educate me, please. I think I'm going to need as much help with this as humanly possible."

* * *

><p>Will inserted the key into the lock, and turned it, throwing the door open with a flourish and pasting another fake smile on his face. "Well, make yourselves at home, guys."<p>

Puck waltzed in, intent on doing exactly that, but Blaine held back, hovering outside the door, leaning on his crutches, the look of slight panic that had been on his face since leaving the hospital intensifying.

"Blaine?" Will questioned, wanting to reach out a place a hand on his shoulder, but knowing from experience that would be the wrong thing to do. He thought back to the advice he'd gotten from Dr. Delaney, and took a deep breath, before making a decision. "I'm going to head on in, I'll leave the door open, just come in when you're ready, okay?"

Blaine nodded hesitantly, and seemed to calm down, so Will walked into the house, leaving the door open.

"He, uh, sleeping out on the porch? I'm sure it'd be fine to let him sleep inside, I can double check with Kurt, but I'm pretty sure he's potty trained," Puck joked.

"Time and place, Noah, and this isn't it. He'll come in when he's ready, this is a lot for him to deal with right now, and let's face it, his psyche is pretty damn fragile. The last thing he needs is your smart ass comments. Filter's aren't reserved exclusively for coffee and cigarettes, you know."

"Sorry," Puck muttered sheepishly. Will was pretty sure that was the only time Puck had ever been sheepish about anything in his life.

"We just need to, well, walk on eggshells for awhile, okay? You need to watch what you say and do for the time being, think before you speak and before you act, please?" Will was already bone tired and Blaine hadn't even set foot through the door yet. That wasn't a good sign, he was positive.

* * *

><p>Kurt muttered an obscenity under his breath, and then smiled sweetly at Carole when he caught the look on her face. "I think I'll just continue trying to get a hold of Will or Puck upstairs," He announced, holding his head high and then scurrying up the steps when he was sure Carole was no longer paying him attention. "Damn you, Noah Puckerman, answer your phone you worthless, no good-Noah!" He interrupted himself when he heard someone growl out a 'What' on the other end of the line.<p>

"Let me guess, you're calling to check up on your boyfriend?" Noah chuckled.

"He is _not_ my boyfriend," Kurt responded, haughtily.

"Yeah, well I think we both know you want him to be. He's doing, uh, okay," Noah shrugged, even though Kurt couldn't see him.

"What exactly does 'uh, okay' mean?"

"He's, y'know, adjusting, getting settled in," Noah was usually a much smoother liar, and he berated himself silently, hoping Kurt didn't rush right over and have a hissy fit because Blaine was still on the porch, where he'd been for over an hour now. "Listen, this isn't the greatest time, can I call you back? Awesome, later, man," Noah hung up ignoring Kurt's angry sputtering from the other end.

"Kurt?" Will guessed, as his phone rang shrilly from his pocket.

"Yup, and fifty bucks says that's who is now calling you, so my advice? Do yourself a favor for now, and fuck you button his ass."

Will shook his head, smiling lightly and ignoring the slightly guilty feeling he got as his thumb wavered over the red ignore button. He finally decided to take Puck's advice, but he hit the silent key instead so that maybe Kurt would just assume he hadn't heard his phone ring.

"All right, this is ridiculous, it's freezing out. One of us has to take a warm saucer of milk out to the alley cat and try and coax it into the house," Puck arched an eyebrow at Mr. Schuester, jerking his thumb towards the porch where Blaine sat, visibly shivering.

"I know, the last thing we need to do is take him directly back to the hospital for pneumonia. So…you or me?"

"Flip you for it," Puck said. "Or better yet, rock, paper, scissors."

Will glared at Puck, whose shoulder sagged with rejection. "Sorry, last one, I swear. I'll go," He volunteered, striding towards the door, and grabbing the knob decisively, before he had time to change his mind.

"Hey, dude, so Mr. Schuester has this amazing thing in his house, called heat. And, hot coffee. Two incredible inventions."

"I don't think coffee would be considered an invention as much as a discovery," Blaine responded after a beat.

"Who cares what it is, it's an amazing thing. So, what's up?" Noah swung down, planting himself next to Blaine, done with the idle chit chat.

Blaine obviously felt different, though, because he clamped his lips together and turned away from Puck with a slight shake of his head.

"C'mon roomie, can we at least play this game of Silent Mouse inside? With heat? And coffee?" Noah tempted him, waggling his eyebrows, finally managing to illicit a small smile from Blaine, who struggled to stand up, but brushed off Puck's attempt at helping him.

Puck let himself back into the house, and a few minutes later Blaine joined him and Will in the kitchen, glancing around nervously, as if he expected his father to come lunging out at him from behind the fridge.

"Blaine? Want me to show you to the guest room so you can get settled in?" Will asked.

Blaine nodded and followed behind Will, where he opened the door to a sparse room that didn't have much outside of two single beds, a couple dressers, and a television, all of which had obviously been bought recently and hastily shoved into the room in preparation for two new people living in the house.

"I voted for bunk beds, but Schue here said no once he found out I wanted bottom bunk," Puck tried again to lighten the mood, and was rewarded with another one of Blaine's strained smiles and Will's glares.

"My room's next door if you need anything, and the bathroom is across the hall. So, I'll leave you to get settled in," Will told him, setting down a duffel bag next to the empty bed. "We got all your stuff that was salvageable from your dad's house, it's in the basement, I figured we can go through it when you feel up to it. But for now, this has all your basic necessities."

Blaine nodded mutely for what felt like the thousandth time that day. Realizing he probably looked like an ungrateful brat, he forced himself to look at Mr. Schuester and say a barely audible, "Thank you."

"Just let me know if you need anything. I'm going to get some dinner on, any allergies or anything I need to know about? For either of you?" Will's eyes swept to include Puck in the question.

Both boys shook their heads.

"Alright, then you will be treated to my specialty. Mac and Cheese. From the box. If you're lucky I might even throw some hot dogs in the mix."

Will walked out of the room and into the kitchen, checking to make sure neither boy followed him before allowing himself to collapse into a chair and let his head fall on the table. He wondered again what he'd gotten himself into and if there was any possible way this would work out without ruining Blaine for good.


	25. Nightmares

Long after Mr. Schuester and Puck had left the room, Blaine sat on the edge of what was now his bed, running his left hand up and down the comforter, taking solace in the familiar feel of cotton on his fingertips. After a few minutes he grabbed one of his crutches, and hooked the end through the handles of the unfamiliar duffel bag and drug it over towards his feet. He smiled ruefully, and pulled a familiar white teddy bear out from under the handles, and setting it down on his pillow. With a fair amount of struggling, he managed to eventually lift it up onto the bed, next to him, where he unzipped it, and started rifling through it with his good hand. Boxers, pants, shirts, everything looked typical, and it was obvious Mr. Schue and Puck had packed this without the help of Kurt, because none of this stuff would have made it through under his supervision. Blaine did notice that they had enough sense to not put in any pants with zippers or buttons, which he appreciated. He continued searching through until he found his iPod, which he gingerly set aside for later. He began the struggle to zip the bag back up when he noticed a large jar of something with a note attached.

Curiously, he pulled the jar out, and let out a snort after he saw it was a value sized jar of hair gel, and had a note from Santana proclaiming _I figured there was no way you could survive without your precious hair gel. This should last you at least a week. Maybe two! _

He heard someone clearing their throat and startled, glancing at the doorway where Puck was leaning. "San and I packed that, did we get everything?"

"Uh, yeah, looks like."

"Cool. Well, Schue sent me to tell you dinner's ready if you want to come eat."

Blaine nodded, then waved off Puck who made a motion to help as he began making the effort to stand. Puck sighed, but left Blaine to his own devices and joined Mr. Schue back in the kitchen, where he was putting food on plates.

"Need any help?"

"Yeah, want to set up the TV trays in the living room?"

"You got it." Puck saw Blaine hovering in the doorway, looking slightly uncomfortable, and motioned him to follow. "C'mon, we can find something to watch that Schue hates."

Blaine gave him a grateful look, and followed him in the living room, perching on the far end of the couch, and laying the crutches down.

Puck held the TV remote out, but Blaine gave a slight shake of his head. "I don't really watch a lot, so anything's fine."

Puck shrugged, and started flipping through channels when he had the trays set up, finally settling on sitcom reruns, before heading back into the kitchen and helping Mr. Schue with the plates.

The second Will and Puck were sitting, they both started eating, neither one noticing the internal battle raging in Blaine's mind. He picked up a fork and started moving macaroni around his plate, waiting until no one was watching to bring an empty bite up, so they only caught him placing the fork back down.

_He really needs a dog,_ Blaine thought bitterly, when he realized they would eventually notice that his plate was still full.

After Will and Puck were done, Will glanced at Blaine's plate and at their empty ones, and then suggested, "Puck, why don't you go get a head start on your homework?"

Puck looked ready to protest, but upon seeing the intent way Mr. Schue was looking at him, had second thoughts. "Uh, sure, that sounds like fun," He tried not to let too much sarcasm drip into his voice as he hastily retreated to the bedroom.

Will silently went over what the therapist had told him about Blaine's eating disorder. It was all about the need for control. By telling Blaine what to eat, when to eat and where to eat, he had taken away all of Blaine's control.

"I've got some tests that need grading, please, make yourself at home. If you don't want that, throw it out, and help yourself to whatever looks good. If you need help finding anything just holler, okay?"

Blaine looked shocked, but nodded mutely, as Will left for his study. He waited a few minutes, then got up and put his food in the garbage disposal and the plate in the dishwasher. His stomach rumbled, but he ignored it, choosing instead to concentrate on the pain in his head, wondering what Mr. Schuester had done with his pills. He had no doubt that they were being regulated to him, and that annoyed him further. With as many drugs as he'd taken in his lifetime, it took almost an entire Oxy 80 just to make a dent in a tension headache; so he knew that Mr. Schue handing him a Vicodin here and there would do nothing for his pain.

* * *

><p>"So how is he?" Santana asked, shooing Brittany away, who was sitting cross-legged next t her on the bed, motioning and trying to get her to put her phone call with Puck on speaker.<p>

"San!" She hissed. Santana glared at her, but told Puck to hold on.

"Jesus, what?"

"I wanna hear too."

"Good Lord, fine," She rolled her eyes, but was unable to bring herself to deny the perky blonde something and hit the speaker button.

"Hi Puck!" Brittany chirped.

"Hey, Brit," He laughed, imagining the two of them sitting on Brittany's bed, crowded around her phone.

"So? How's our boy?" Santana persisted.

Puck threw a glance toward the open door, making sure Blaine wasn't around. "He's…okay?"

"What does that mean?" Santana asked, getting annoyed.

"It means that he's jumping around the room and singing 'Oh Mickey you're so fine', Christ Santana, what do you think he's okay means?"

"Oh, I love that song!" Brittany piped in.

Puck snorted, but then grew serious. "He's still getting used to things. He's been here for like, four hours. He's barely said two words, and he still has that look like he's waiting for one of us to jump him at any second. It's gonna take time. Blaine doesn't exactly know any of us, other than Kurt, and he sure doesn't trust Schue or me farther than he can throw us right now."

"How far can he throw you guys?" Brittany questioned.

Santana rolled her eyes, and grabbed her phone, turning it back into a private call. "Well what's he gonna do while you two are at school tomorrow? You aren't leaving him alone are you?"

"No, Carole switched some shifts, and got some time off work, so she can be here with him during the day." Puck glanced up as he heard footsteps. "Yeah, I got 45 for question number 11 as well."

"Blaine just walked in, huh?"

"You got it. See you tomorrow." Puck hung up just as Blaine hobbled into the room.

"Don't ever become a spy," Blaine muttered, letting his crutches clatter the ground as he laid on his bed, and picked up a familiar teddy bear, dangling it over his face between his fingers.

"What?" Puck asked, confused.

"Call Santana back and tell her I said hello, seeing as you two were gossiping like a bunch of old hens on the phone about me and my fragile emotional state."

Normally, Puck would have had his own biting remark back, but he found himself far too sidetracked with the fact that that was the first time in the past few weeks that he'd heard a bit of the old Blaine's sarcasm and disdain for him.

"All right, then. You're right. We were talking about you. Because we're worried about you, Blaine. Everyone is. You barely say anything, you look scared to death of everyone, and you walk around like a damned ghost."

Blaine turned his head, refusing to acknowledge that Puck had said anything.

"Fine, don't talk to me. But talk to someone. Call Kurt, he's worried and sick and has been blowing up mine and Schue's phones all night."

Blaine let out a sigh, and turned back towards Puck. "I know Kurt means well, but he's a little….y'know?"

"Intense?"

"Yeah," Blaine said with a chuckle. His face suddenly got serious, and he leveled Puck with a gaze. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore, Puck. I don't know who to trust, I don't even know who I am anymore. The only thing I've ever worked towards, is getting into a good college, and getting out of my father's house. I don't know how possible college even is for me without my father's money."

"Are you kidding me? Blaine, you're one of the smartest people I know. You could get a scholarship to your choice of colleges, I bet," Puck stopped, wanting to ask Blaine something that he'd been curious about for awhile now, but not sure if he'd be treading into murky water. "Blaine, can I ask you a question?"

"I can't promise an answer, but yeah."

"You always refer to your dad as 'father'."

"That's a statement not a question."

Puck smirked. "Why?"

"Because that's all he is to me. My father. He's not my dad, that's a name you have to earn, through love and respect. He never loved me, and he sure as hell never respected me, so I'll be damned if I am going to call that piece of shit my dad. "

Puck nodded. "I get that. But could you do me a favor? As someone who has sort of been where you are and who just wants to help someone he's come to think of as a friend? Could you at least try to trust me and Schue?"

Blaine got thoughtful a minute, and Puck couldn't read the look on his face, or understand the worry and fear in his eyes, but eventually, Blaine nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay. All I can promise is to try, though," Blaine clarified.

"That's all we're asking. Listen, this is starting to enter Kurt territory, and I'm a not exactly a feelings kinda guy, but I am here if you need me. You know to talk to, or to play a video game with, whatever," Puck reminded him, looking about as uncomfortable as Blaine felt.

Blaine nodded, turning his head and whispering a quiet, "Thank you."

* * *

><p>Long after Mr. Schuester had told the boys he was heading to bed, and long after Puck had told Blaine 'godnight', and turned off the lights and rolled over, Blaine lay wide awake, staring up at the ceiling lit up with moonlight that streamed in beautifully through an curtain-less window.<p>

Every time Blaine shut his eyes and tried to sleep he saw a different image dancing beneath his eyelids. None of them were pleasant. First he saw his father, his angry face inches from Blaine's own, screaming insults at him, spit flying out of his mouth and hitting Blaine in the eyes. He saw his father standing over him, kicking him, telling him how worthless he was. He saw his father throwing bottles at his head, and threatening him with a gun.

And after the images of his father faded into nonexistence, he saw the leering faces of Bruce and Jimmy. Doing everything his father did, and so much worse. And then the images changed again, to Mr. Schuester. The images in his mind switched suddenly from memories of a man who looked worried about him, and who could possibly, for some unknown reason, care about him, to lies and to fears, one's that Blaine's psyche couldn't separate from reality. He saw Mr. Schuester screaming in his face, and Mr. Schuester kicking him in the ribs and coming after him with knives. Mr. Schuester holding him down and…

Without realizing it Blaine began thrashing in his bed widly, trying to get Mr. Schuester away from, as he moaned and whimpered, scared to death, lost in a place between dreams and wake. The whimpers became grunts, which turned quickly into yelling, and screaming and crying.

* * *

><p>Puck jerked awake to an unfamiliar sound, and couldn't place where he was at or what that sound was. It sounded like someone screaming, almost. Puck sat up in bed, fully awake, rapidly remembering where he was, and who that was he heard in the room. Quickly untangling himself from a mess of blankets, Puck rushed over next to Blaine's bed.<p>

Blaine lay before him, making horrible noises, sounding like he was in severe pain. He thrashed back and forth, muttering 'no' between the screams, sounding so much like the scared little boy he was thanks to years of abuse.

Puck gripped his shoulder, shaking him, and loudly whispering "Blaine!", but Blaine seemed stuck in his nightmare.

Frustrated, and wanting to pull Blaine out of his own head, Puck grabbed both of his friend's shoulders, hoping he wasn't hurting the shattered one too much, and gave Blaine a rough shake, yelling his name.

Blaine's eyes flew open this time, and he scrambled away from the person who had him gripped in their fists, throwing his arms over his face and crying out 'Please! No! Stop!"

Puck immediately backed off, and put his hands up in front of him in mock surrender. "Blaine, calm down, it was a nightmare. It wasn't real. It's me, it's Puck."

Blaine's breathing began to even, and he slowly let his arms drop from his face, taking in Puck's face as best he could.

He looked calmer, more awake, so Puck continued, "You're here with me, safe and sound, in Mr. Schuester's-" He quit speaking abruptly when Blaine became frantic again at hearing 'Mr. Schuester.'

"Blaine, Blaine, it's okay, he's not in here. He's not hurting you, he would never hurt you. It's just you and me," Puck rambled, trying to calm the frightened teen down.

Blaine was still breathing heavily, and was squished up against the wall, as far from Puck as he could physically get, but he visibly relaxed a little, even if he did refuse to take his anxious eyes off of Puck.

Blaine began to slowly rock back and forth on his hindquarters, shaking his head and muttering to himself. Puck, unsure of what else to do forgot all his inhibitions, and climbed on the bed, taking the terrified boy in his arms, and hugging him tight, whispering that everything was okay.

Blaine curled into himself, shaking with fear, and crying, feeling ashamed for showing such weakness, but he allowed Puck to hold him.

Somewhere in the very back of Blaine's mind, he knew it was awkward to take such solace in another boy's arms, but all he knew right then, was that for the first time in a very long time, he felt safe, and he felt protected, and he felt loved. Blaine reufused to acknowledge those feelings, and refused to ponder what they meant , and instead just scooted in towards Puck even more, allowing his hands to clutch at Puck's shirt as he tried to forget the nightmares of his past.

Puck didn't know how long they stayed like that, Blaine trembling and trying to hold in his fears and his tears; Puck holding him protectively, encircling him in his arms, and soothing him with his voice. He did know that they were still like that when the sun began to rise, though, and he did know that this felt just a little bit more right, a little bit more comfortable, and a lot more intimate than it should have felt for two allegedly straight boys.


	26. Questions

Puck startled when a resounding knock came at the bedroom, and Mr. Schuester yelled that it was time to get up. Blaine didn't stir, having fallen into a deep sleep at some point, and somewhat reluctantly Puck pulled away, covering Blaine up with a blanket, and padding over to the door. He stepped outside, shushing his teacher.

"Blaine was up having nightmares half the night, he just fell asleep a little bit ago," He explained. He decided it was probably best to not mention that he'd held the other boy, though. In the bright light of the morning, he was trying to shove the thought away of what it meant, and why it had felt so good to hold him, and to comfort him. He was already making plans in his head to go over to Santana's house after school and have some good old fashioned sex.

"Why didn't you come get me? Is he okay now? What were the nightmares about?" Will immediately began fretting, already feeling like he was failing Blaine, he hadn't heard anything, and he hadn't been there for Blaine the first time he needed someone.

"I would have, but the second I mentioned your name he kinda freaked. He never said what the nightmares were about, he never said anything once I woke him up, actually. I think he's fine now, he's sleeping pretty damn hard. Just tell Carole to leave the door open and keep checking on him. It took me awhile to pull him out of his nightmare, and even longer to calm him down."

"He freaked out when you said my name?"

Puck realized then that maybe he should have kept that to himself, because his teacher looked a little hurt at that revelation. "I don't think it's anything against you personally," Puck tried to backpedal, somewhat unsuccessfully.

"No, no, Noah that's not what I was getting at. I know I have my work cut out for me in getting him to trust me and be comfortable around me. I am glad he feels at least somewhat comfortable with you, though. I can only imagine if you weren't staying here. No, what I was worried about is whether it was a nightmare, or a flashback? Dr. Weiss said they're very different, and I need to keep him and Dr. Delaney updated on how bad the PTSD is."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Mr. Schue, I don't really know the difference, I thought they were kinda the same thing," Puck said apologetically.

"That's fine, maybe Monday when we take him in for his next appointment, while he's in physical therapy, you could sit down with his therapist a bit, since it seems like he will probably be leaning more on you, and showing more emotion around you at least for now. You can tell me more about what happened last night on the way to school. Carole will be here soon, and we need to get ready and leave. I was thinking, maybe tonight I needed to go over and sit down with Carole and Burt and discuss everything more in depth with them, and they said they could cancel their family dinner this one night. So, uh, I mean, please don't tell Blaine I'm offering this, but could I pay you to stay here with him? I can't leave him here alone," Mr. Schuester asked, shrugging, not sure what else to do or who else to ask.

"No," Puck said, frowning. "I mean, yes, I'll stay here with him, but no way am I accepting your money for that. How would he feel if he felt like you were hiring a babysitter for him? He's going to be eighteen in, what? Three or four months? He already feels helpless enough, that would embarrass the shit out of him."

"I appreciate that, but isn't he kind of going to figure it out when you stay in on a Friday night, anyway?" Will pointed out logically.

Puck's brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to think of a way that it wouldn't be obvious to Blaine. One thing was for sure, no way in hell would he accept Schue's money to stay home and keep an eye on Blaine. Not only would he not feel right about taking his teacher's money, seeing as he was living with him and eating his food for free right now, but he had a feeling not only would it embarrass Blaine, but it would absolutely humiliate him. Puck knew where Blaine was coming from in that regard. Like Puck, Blaine had been taking care of himself since he was in diapers practically. When you had one abusive parent and another one who was weak and an alcoholic, you had to learn to be self sufficient when other kid's were learning how to write their names. As it was, he could tell Blaine already felt like a burden. The night before, when Blaine had gone in to get ready for bed, he'd fallen while trying to brush his teeth. The agility required to balance standing up with injuries, fractures and sprains on both legs at different parts, and also trying to do it left handed proving to be too difficult. Puck had watched him struggling, since he'd been at the sink next to him brushing his own teeth.

Like every time he watched the other teen struggle, Puck had had to do his damndest to not give in to his knee jerk reaction to offer help, because he knew that Blaine wanted to do as much as he could for himself. So when he'd fallen while trying to do such a mundane task as brushing his teeth, and Puck had dropped down to make sure he was okay, Blaine had shoved the other boy away, muttering that he was an adult, and could stand up on his own. Puck had felt as helpless as Blaine as he watched the other boy struggling to stand and get his crutches and leave the restroom with his dignity intact. Puck had also noticed the angry tears shining bright in Blaine's eyes as he hastily retreated back to the bedroom, where he hadn't said a word to Puck until he'd woken up screaming in the middle of the night.

Puck's frown deepened for a second, and Will was about to tell him they'd figure it out later, but suddenly he snapped his fingers. "I got it! I'll invite everyone from Glee over for movies and pizza. Then it won't really seem weird to Blaine, because we're all be here. And it will give Kurt and Brittany and Santana a chance to see Blaine, too, since they haven't left me be for more than five minutes yet."

"Kurt, Brittany, Santana, and even Finn are more than welcome. But before you invite the others over, you may want to run it by Blaine. That's a lot of people, a lot of questions, and we don't know how he'll feel about them seeing him like this. If Blaine okays it, they can come, too, of course, but don't ask them until you talk to Blaine, ok?" Will was about to go make coffee, when he turned back. "Oh, also, Noah? If Blaine does say it's fine, make sure to talk to everyone, and tell them to not ask him anything unless he volunteers it. Act like everything is normal. No staring, and being weird around him, he's not a museum exhibit."

"You got it. And by everyone you mean Rachel, right?"

Will tried to keep from smiling, and gave Puck the fakest stern look he'd ever seen. "I mean everyone, Noah. I'm going to put coffee on, I want to leave in twenty, ok?"

Puck nodded, and headed towards the bathroom to shower, yawning and scratching his chest.

* * *

><p>Blaine turned over as gingerly as he could, so that when Puck came back in he wouldn't realize he'd been awake and had heard the entire conversation. Great, now not only was he completely helpless and had to have babysitters, but they actually thought he'd be dumb enough to think the entire glee club often had movie and pizza nights at their coach's house while he wasn't even home. He hadn't even been here twenty-four hours yet, and already he was a fucking burden to everyone, messing with their schedules, getting in the way, practically an invalid it seemed at times.<p>

Not to mention, how was he supposed to look Puck in the face after last night? He'd not only had a nightmare, but he'd woken up screaming and crying like a freaking two year old, and then to make matter even worse, he'd held onto another boy and cried into his shirt? Then spent the entire night doing what could really only be described as intense cuddling with him? Puck would probably go to school and laugh about it with Finn and the other guys in glee today. And then tonight, they'd all be over here, and not only would they know that Blaine was a wimp who couldn't make it through the night without crying over a stupid dream, but they'd know the one thing he'd never even allowed himself to think about.

* * *

><p>Puck finished showering, and went into the kitchen, snagging a cup of coffee and a pop tart before heading back to his and Blaine's room to grab his book bag with his untouched homework.<p>

He stole a glance at Blaine as he leaned down to grab it and was surprised when he realized Blaine was awake. "Hey man, how long you been awake?" Shit, shit, shit. Please say not long.

"Just a minute or two," Blaine mumbled, looking everywhere but at Puck. Both boys kept their eyes completely off each other, both of them feeling awkward after the night before.

"Need anything? Schue and I are about to head out and Carole just got here," Puck finally asked, shifting from foot to foot.

Blaine shook his head.

"Okay, well see ya later. Oh, hey wait. Listen, on Friday nights some of the kids from glee get together, we switch up houses and stuff and do pizza and movie night? Anyway, it's my turn to host tonight, and Schue said they could all come here, I just wondered how you'd feel about that? I mean, I can just invite like Kurt and Finn and San and Britt if you don't want to deal with anyone else," Puck lied so smoothly that Blaine almost believed him even though he'd overheard him and Mr. Schuester talking earlier.

"Do they, uh, know what, y'know…" Blaine trailed off, not sure what to call it.

"A little, but nothing major. They know you were in the hospital recently, and they know you had some problems at home and are staying with Mr. Schue for awhile. But they don't know why you were in the hospital, or what happened at home that you can't stay there. And I promise, no one will bug you about it, or bother you for details all night," Puck promised.

"Yeah, that's fine then. I wouldn't want to ruin your plans. I may just stay in here, anyways," Blaine admitted.

Puck nodded, and glanced at the clock. "Whichever you want, man. If you want to be by yourself, then no will bother you, but if you want to join us and eat pizza and watch a movie, then you're more than welcome to, ok? I gotta go, I'll see you after school."

"Bye," Blaine mumbled.

* * *

><p>"Blaine, honey?" A female voice called from outside his room, and an accompanying knock came on the doorframe. "Are you awake?"<p>

"Yeah. Hi Carole," Blaine turned wearily towards the door, noting that the clock claimed it was still only ten in the morning. _Traitor_, he thought at it.

"Will left me some prescriptions of yours to get filled. I thought you might want to get out of the house for a bit, ride down to the drugstore with me?" Carole asked, smiling sweetly.

As awesome as that idea sounded, the thought of Carole hovering around while he tried to dress himself and make himself presentable sounded horrible. However, he didn't really think he had much of a choice in the matter really.

"Even if I say no, you're under strict instructions to not leave me home alone for even a second, aren't you?" Blaine asked plainly.

"He just worries," Carole began to explain, but Baline waved her off.

"I'll go with minimal complaint, if you give me some time to get dressed without mother henning me and holding your arms out like I'm about to crash. And if you do hear me fall, only worry if you don't immediately hear me curse," Blaine bargained, as he began the trying task of getting out of bed with no help.

"Deal," Carole agreed, smiling at him, and quickly retreating, wanting to respect his privacy and his wishes. Like everyone else who had been thrown into the situation, Carole wanted to do something to help Blaine, to let him know he was loved, but she had no idea what to do. And she knew deep down, that things were only going to get worse.

Blaine had just started his long, treacherous road to recovery. There would not only be the issue of him needing to feel self sufficient and like an adult, but he had to heal mentally, he had to heal physically, and somehow, they were all going to have to find a way to help him make it through the upcoming trial. Convincing him to take the stand and testify against the men he was terrified of. Help him see that while this had happened to him, this did not have to define him and who he was going to be.

Carole had no doubt in her mind that if Blaine could learn to not only live with, but to accept and to forgive the horrors of his past, than he would grow up to become a much stronger man for it. She knew he would go on to do amazing things, no matter what handicaps were now presented to him. But he first and foremost had to allow himself to overcome his past and to reach his full potential. Maybe forgiveness wasn't something his father ever deserved, but if Blaine wanted to truly begin to live again, he would at least have to find a way to come to terms with what he'd been through. Because right now, he seemed to be in denial about pretty much everything.

* * *

><p>"Schue has somewhere to be tonight, and he doesn't want Blaine to be home alone, but we also don't want him to feel like I'm babysitting him. So the New Directions have a tradition of movie and pizza night on Friday's, and tonight we're doing it at Schuester's," Puck addressed all of the members of the glee club.<p>

"We do? How come no one ever told me about this tradition?" Brittany asked.

Puck opened his mouth, then quickly shut it, and decided it was best to just ignore her for now. "I talked it over with Blaine, he's cool with everyone coming over. But there are some ground rules before I let any of you," Puck shot a pointed glance at Rachel, "In the house, around him."

"I'm sorry, ground rules?" Kurt raised an eyebrow at Puck, and gave him his patented bitch face. He was not about to follow rules to see his best friend.

"Not for you, exactly. Or Finn, or Santana or Brittany. For everyone who doesn't know the whole story." Puck clarified, unwilling to deal with Kurt's attitude at that moment.

"Oh, so is someone finally going to explain to the rest of us what exactly happened?" Rachel asked, hopefully.

"No," Puck, Kurt and Santana all stated at once.

Rachel harrumphed and sat back in her seat, arms crossed.

"Look, Rachel, it's not our place to tell. It's not our life or our story. Please try to understand that it is not like the five of us got together and decided to keep the rest of you out of the loop. But it's not fair to Blaine for us to tell all of you who barely know him what's going on. Santana and Puck know because they happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Brittany knows because she came to the hospital with Santana and talked to Blaine. Finn knows because Mr. Schuester called to tell our parents and they sat both of us down and told us. I'm not saying you will never know, I'm saying you need to try and respect Blaine's privacy. I'm sure you are all smart enough to at least have a grasp of the general idea, but you won't get any details from any of us, because it is simply not our place. If Blaine gets to know any of you, and get's comfortable, he may decide to tell you, but that is up to him. That is his business and no one else's, who he wants to divulge information to and who he doesn't. Okay?" Kurt explained gently.

Everyone nodded, and Rachel lost the pissed off look on her face and gave Kurt a grateful smile.

Puck rolled his eye, annoyed at having to baby Rachel, and plowed on. "Anyways, as I was saying," He said loudly, gathering everyone's attention. "You are all welcome to come over, but you have to act like we do this all the time. And if Blaine comes out of the room, don't fuckin' stare at him like he's some kind of damned animal in the zoo, don't baby him and try to help him with every little action, trust me that really pisses him off, and do not ask him about anything. Just act like everything is completely normal. Please," Puck added uncharacteristically.

"Okay," They all chorused, nodding.

"So you're all coming?"

"Brittany and I are definitely in," Santana confirmed.

"I'm obviously coming," Kurt said unnecessarily.

Finn, Rachel, Tina and Mike nodded.

"I'm not sure. Maybe," Quinn shrugged, growing bored of the whole conversation and not really caring about Blaine one way or another.

"I'll try, but we're supposed to have dinner with my grandmother," Mercedes added.

"I'm out," Artie said, not bothering to clarify why.

"Me, too," Sam said. "Sorry, wish I could, but I have to work."

"Okay, awesome. I'll order a bunch of pizzas, and swing by the Redbox on the way home," Puck ended the conversation and left, all former plans of trying to prove his heterosexuality out of his mind. Now he just wanted to get home and see how Blaine was doing, knowing that Mr. Schue was eager to get back as well.

* * *

><p>"We need to get serious about practicing for sectionals," Will commented on the drive home, since he and Puck had carpooled together that morning.<p>

"Yeah," Puck agreed absently.

"All right, what's going on with you today? You've been out of sorts for awhile now, but it seems escalated today?" Will glanced over at the teenager, before fixating his eyes back on the road.

Puck shrugged. He was not about to tell his glee coach that for the first time in his life he found himself not only questioning his sexuality, but actually wondering if he was developing real, honest-to-God feelings for another human being. That alone was weird enough for Puck; add in the fact that the person in question was another boy, and one who was as traumatized as Blaine currently was, and the complications just grew and grew.

"Nothing. Seeing Blaine go through this shit just brings back memories that I'd rather keep locked away," Puck said, not untruthfully.

Will stole another look at his student, not sure what to say. He had no doubt that was true, but he got the feeling Noah was still keeping something from him. He decided it was probably not worth pushing the subject right now though, and let it go. For the time being.

"So is everything set up for tonight? Blaine's okay with it, and the rest of the kids said they'd come?" Will changed subjects.

"Yeah, Blaine's not sure if he'll even come join us, but he said he has no problem with them being there. And I talked to everyone, so did Kurt. Artie, Sam, Mercedes and Quinn are the only ones who probably won't be coming. We'll try not to make too big a mess of your house. I'll get a small keg, not one of the big ones," Puck smirked.

Will laughed good naturedly, as he pulled his beat up car into his driveway.

They joked as they walked into the house, both of their smiles disappearing after one look at Carole's worried face, as she came rushing into the kitchen to meet them.

"Oh no. What happened?" Will asked, his voice full of concern. Puck didn't wait around, instead dropped his bag on the kitchen floor and hurried back to the bedroom in search of Blaine.

He found Blaine lying on the bed, curled into fetal position, shaking uncontrollably. "Blaine?" Puck asked quietly, going around to the other side of the bed to see his face.

Blaine had his eyes squeezed shut, and made no indication that he realized Puck was in the room. "Blaine?" He repeated, a little louder, placing a hand on the other boy's upper arm.

Blaine kept his eyes shut, and curled even farther into himself if that was possible; the shaking increasing. He let out a soft whimper, and Puck immediately removed his hand, but that apparently wasn't what Blaine's whimper had meant, because he reached out a hand, looking for the comfort of human touch.

Puck grasped his hand in his. "Blaine? Talk to me, man. What's up?"

Blaine just gave a slight shake of his head, and said nothing.

Puck gave his hand an understanding squeeze, and sat in silence with him, wishing he knew what had happened since this morning, and what was going through the other boy's mind. Wishing he knew how to make all the hurt go away.


	27. Anger

Blaine tried to get himself under control. He knew he was blowing things out of proportion. They hadn't touched him, had barely even said anything to him. But no matter how much he tried to reassure himself, it didn't help. Images ran through his head faster than an Olympic Gold medalist. It was like he'd forgotten about them while he'd been in the hospital. He'd been so focused on worrying about his father that he'd completely forgotten there were two other men to fear. He wouldn't be that dumb again. He planned on staying right here, curled up in his warm bed, safe and sound, hidden away in Mr. Schuester's tiny bachelor pad for the rest of his life.

* * *

><p>"Oh, God, Will, I'm so sorry, this is my fault, I wasn't thinking," Carole fretted, nervously wringing her hands together and chewing on her bottom lip.<p>

"Maybe, maybe not. I won' know until you tell me what's going on," Will said softly, taking Carole into the living and sitting her on the couch. "Now what happened? Is Blaine okay?"

"Physically, he's the same as when you left," Carole sighed, shaking her head. "I took him with me to go pick up his prescriptions, which are on the kitchen counter, by the way."

Will nodded, silently urging her towards the important part of her story.

"He wanted to stay in the car while I went in, which I figured would be fine, since I could see the car from the pharmacy counter. As I was paying, I saw two me approach the car, they looked like they leaned down and said something to Blaine, but I'm not sure. I hurried out, but they had already left, and Blaine wouldn't talk to me after that. When we got back here, he went in his room, curled up on his bed, and hasn't moved or talked since. I couldn't get him to eat lunch, take his medication, anything. He's just been laying there, staring at the wall with a terrified look on his face."

Will had felt himself stiffen the second Carole had mentioned two men. "Did these two men look like alcoholic pieces of shit?" He asked. Carole gave him a curious look, and didn't answer. "Never mind, I'm pretty sure I know who they were. And this wasn't your fault. I asked you to take Blaine with you and get him out of the house. Neither of us could have expected his dad's drinking buddies to be there. Listen, why don't you go on home, I'll give you and Burt a call later to let you know if I'll be over tonight or not. But first, I need to call the police station and check on Blaine."

* * *

><p>The longer Puck sat next to Blaine, the angrier he felt himself getting. Only his rage wasn't directed at Carole, or Blaine's father or his situation. It was directed at Blaine. Unfortunately for Blaine, Puck had never really been the type to control his anger and keep quiet, and eventually he stood up, and exploded at Blaine.<p>

"Alright, you know what? Fuck this. Knock it off, Blaine! You may think I don't know you, and maybe I couldn't tell you your favorite songs or TV shows, but I know you well enough to know you're being a fucking pussy right now. And I know that's not who you really are, either.

"For the past month you've been acting like this scared little kid, and it's time to grow the fuck up. You're not scared. I can see it in your eyes when you let your guard down. You're pissed. And you have every right to be pissed, your Dad is a Class A dick. But you need to quit pretending to be scared, and start acting pissed. You want to get even with your dad? Then tear him and his buddies new assholes where it counts. In the courtroom. Forget about being scared, forget about being embarrassed, and go up on that damn stand, and before God and the judge and the jury and the entire courtroom, let it all out. Every single time he hit you. Every time he hit your mom. Every time his friends hit you. Every time they raped you. All those dirty details you refuse to think about and remember? Quit suppressing them and just go in there and lay every single god damned one of them out there for everyone to see."

"Noah!" Will admonished from the doorway, where he walked in just in time to hear the entire speech.

Puck glared right back, and shrugged. It needed to be said, and he was done babying a seventeen year old.

Blaine had sat up halfway through Puck's speech, and turned to look at Will. "No, it's fine. He's right. I _am_ angry. I'm so angry that I spend half my time plotting ways to kill my father, and Jimmy and Bruce. I've actually discovered that I'm very creative in the field of torture, apparently," Blaine admitted with a sardonic half grin.

"Blaine," Will began, only to be cut off with a sharp shake of the head from Blaine.

"No. He's absolutely right. I need to quit acting like an invalid if I want to quit being treated like one. Puck's just the only one with enough balls to be honest with me," Blaine shrugged. "So thanks."

"Hey being a jerk is my specialty," Puck grinned, laughing at the look of confusion on his teacher's face. "Dude, shouldn't you be getting ready for your dinner date?" He asked.

"Cute. Fine I'm going to shower. Blaine, do me a favor, eat something. Puck, figure out his medications and shove the correct ones down his throat. Dog owners say cutting off their air supply gets them to swallow."

"I'm not a dog!" Blaine yelled at Will's retreating back.

* * *

><p>"I'm gonna go check out your prescriptions to make sure I don't accidentally kill you," Puck said into the awkward silence that followed once Will had left.<p>

Blaine watched Puck leave, and then rested against the headboard, rubbing his fingertips in small circles on his temples.

Maybe some people wouldn't have appreciated the way Puck had gone about telling him things, but to Blaine it was a bit of a relief. And a wake-up call. It was refreshing to finally have someone talk to him like a normal person, and he was glad Puck hadn't bothered to sugarcoat anything. If he had, Blaine probably wouldn't have listened to him.

But as it was, Puck was completely right. Feeling sorry for himself and being afraid of his own shadow was accomplishing nothing. He needed to fight back for once. Of course, fighting back sounded difficult seeing as he couldn't even shower right now, but that was beside the point.

* * *

><p>Will buttoned up his shirt, and thought about what had just transpired in the boys' room. Did he agree with what Noah said? To a point, yes. Did he agree with the way Noah went about saying it? Definitely not. But that was where he and Blaine obviously differed, because Blaine had sat up and taken note of what Noah had said. And up until today, Blaine hadn't exactly seemed to give two shits what anyone said or thought. And he'd seen something change in Blaine right before his eyes. He'd seen a sense of determination on Blaine's face. For the first time since this had all began, Will let himself feel hopeful. He felt like today was they day that marked when Blaine finally started the uphill battle to recovery. Not just physically, but emotionally, mentally. For the first time, Will sensed that Blaine was going to come out of all of this mess okay. Better than okay, maybe. He didn't know why, and he wasn't going to pry, but Noah seemed to be the only one Blaine was willing to truly listen to and trust completely. And Will was happier than ever that Noah was staying with them while Blaine recovered.<p>

* * *

><p>By the time Blaine made it into the kitchen, Puck had an assortment of medications laid on the counter. "Hope you can swallow pills, man," He greeted Blaine distractedly, reading a label on a bottled.<p>

"Hi, my name's Blaine Anderson and I'm a drug addict," Blaine replied in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

Puck grinned, and pointed to a pile of pills. "Okay, so for now, best I can tell take those ones. There shouldn't be any adverse effects or combinations, I think. They are-"

Blaine cut Puck off. "Xanax, Oxy, Prozac, Zyprexa," Blaine rattled off the names of the drugs as he swallowed them. "Like I said, drug addict. Pill head to be precise. Trust me, I know what all these are. Of course, I can't remember the last time I swallowed an Oxy as opposed to snorting it."

"Which is why I'll be counting all your pills," Will cut in joining them in the kitchen.

Blaine made a face at his back, and Puck snickered before quickly, and unsuccessfully trying to turn it into a cough.

"Sorry, kid," Will said to Blaine.

"Nah, I understand. Anyways, the temptations gone if I can't get to the pills right?"

"Which is exactly why you _will_ be able to get to the pills. I will just be counting them and trusting you. It's not recovering from an addiction if you simply have no access. Because then as soon as you get the access, what is going to keep you from relapsing? I need you to prove to me that I can trust you to not abuse the pills, and to quit taking the painkillers when the pain is gone. Okay?"

Blaine nodded, but didn't look happy about the prospect of actually having to work at recovering from the addiction.

"Did you eat?" Will asked.

"Not yet. I'll just have pizza with everyone else tonight."

"Fine, but just so you know, I'm texting Noah to make sure you actually eat."

"So the trust extends only to not abusing my pills, not eating?" Blaine questioned.

"Today? Yes. Hopefully that will change soon, though. Right now there are far too many of your physical ailments I'm worried about, and starving yourself to death is not one I want tacked on. Once you have a clean bill of health otherwise, though, I'll start showing some trust in that if I feel I can. Okay?" Will explained.

Blaine grunted and then turned to Puck. "What movie did you rent? If it sucks, I'm spending the night in the room with my music blasting."

"Just like a thirteen year old girl. That's adorable," Puck commented, sliding a Redbox case across the counter.

Blaine opened the case and studied the DVD. "The new Transformers. I can get behind that. I'm gonna go lay down, wake me before anyone gets here?"

"Sure," Puck agreed, as Blaine shuffled out of the room slowly. He waited until Blaine was out of ear shot before turning to his teacher. "It's cool, Schue. You can say it. I'm a fuckin' genius."

"New rule, less swearing in this house," Will said wearily. "Let's just hope this new attitude of his lasts. You sure you will all be okay with me out of the house tonight?"

"Yes, I'll call if anything goes wrong. Promise. _Dad_," He couldn't help but add.

"Haha. Okay. Then I'm leaving. Make sure Blaine eats. And put the pill bottles away before my house is overrun with teenagers. And, also, I'm hoping this doesn't need to be added, but just in case, _no alcohol_."

Puck nodded and gave Will his word.

With a sigh, and a worried glance over his shoulder, Will left the house.


	28. Tension

_A/N: Couple surprises coming up in future chapters, and hopefully, more regular updating as well! But, no promises! Also, I noticed FF has shit the bed on some points recently, so make sure you read chapter 27 before reading this one, since FF has decided it isn't necessary to send out e-mail alerts for anything recently. Enjoy, and review if you so wish!_

* * *

><p>When you are completely alone in your house, with no music, no TV, no cell chirping at you with an incoming text it can feel like the only time when you are truly alone with yourself and with your own thoughts. And that can be such a dangerous and intimidating thing. You look in the mirror and don't recognize the person staring back at you. You think about you, and who you are. Maybe you think about your values and beliefs. Or maybe you think about all of your regrets, all the things you wish you could change in your life or about yourself. The people you've hurt intentionally, the ones you've hurt unintentionally, and the ones you don't even realize you've hurt. You start to think about who you are, who you truly are in the rawest, most honest form, the you that no one but you will ever truly know. The secrets you have that you will never share, the dreams you have that you're afraid to let yourself dream, your fears, your hope, everything that makes you who you are as a person. The good and the bad and the so hideously ugly that a firing squad couldn't force you to admit that part of you exists. In the end, you have thought about you and who you are so deeply, so intimately, that now you don't recognize the person inside of you either, much less the zombie in the mirror.<p>

* * *

><p>Blaine heard someone talking in the background, and blinked his eyes open to see fingers snapping in his face. "Hey, get up, lazy. Kurt just texted, they'll be here soon."<p>

Blaine grumbled a response, but began the process of sitting up nonetheless. Puck offered a hand to help him out of bed, and for once Blaine willingly accepted his help. It seemed to have all come down to small victories. But Puck would take what he could get. For now.

"Wanna put on real clothes?" Puck asked, raising his eyebrows at Blaine who had on nothing but a pair of boxer shorts at the moment. Puck hoped the answer was yes, because he was not pleased with the small stir of arousal he felt at Blaine's undressed state. He was straight. Completely straight. Wasn't he?

He also hated the visual reminders of everything Blaine's dad had done to him, and they were impossible to look away from when Blaine had nothing covering most of him. The bruises, welts, cuts, stitches and all other forms of physical harm stood out in stark contrast against his skin, making them look worse than were, if possible. The various casts and bandages completed the look, causing anyone who saw Blaine like this to wince. Of course, Puck was the only person to see Blaine like this since the hospital.

"Uh, Puck? Something I can help you with?" Blaine's voice snapped Puck out of his thoughts, and he looked away quickly, slightly embarrassed.

"What? No. Need help getting dressed?"

Blaine hoped the slight flush that he could feel spreading on his face and chest at the suggestion wasn't obvious to Puck. He wasn't sure why his mind had turned such an innocent question into a sexual innuendo, and he mumbled he'd be fine, if Puck could close the door on the way out.

Puck seemed as if he couldn't exit fast enough, and Blaine squeezed his eyes shut tight, refusing to open them until he heard the click of the door behind Puck.

* * *

><p>"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Puck muttered to himself, pacing the kitchen. Here was a guy who'd been through so much trauma recently, had been raped repeatedly by two men, and Puck gets caught checking him out in his boxers and then suggesting Blaine let him help him dress. <em>Jesus, way to put the guy at ease, Puck.<em>

He was relieved to hear knocking on the kitchen door, and opened it up to find Kurt, Rachel and Finn standing there. He could see two cars pulling in the drive as well, one with Brittany and Santana, and the other with Mike and Tina.

"Hey guys, come on in," He opened the door all the way and stood back.

"So where's our boy? He joining the festivities?" Santana asked as she took off her coat.

"Yeah, he's getting dressed, so give him about ten to fifteen minutes," Puck joked, hoping his voice didn't give away anything.

It must not have because no one commented, and soon it just became the low roar of a bunch of teenagers in a small house carrying on multiple conversations. Puck, Kurt and Santana kept throwing glances toward the closed bedroom door, though, until it eventually creaked opened.

Everyone hurriedly acted like they hadn't noticed, so Blaine wouldn't feel self-conscious as he slowly made his way on his crutches into the living room where everyone had settled.

Blaine sat on the open end of the couch next to Kurt, and avoided eye contact with Puck, and everyone else for a moment, already feeling awkward and out of place.

"How've you been, Blaine?" Rachel asked, trying to break the ice.

Inwardly, Blaine rolled his eyes, but outwardly, he merely replied, "Fine, thanks. How about you?"

"Good," Rachel chirped back. "Puck, you want to order the pizza?"

"Yes!" Puck jumped from where he was sitting, seeming a little too excited at the prospect. "What's everyone want?"

That simple question was what seemed to truly get everyone to loosen up, and in the end Puck ordered practically a different pizza for everyone, and a salad for Rachel, the vegan.

"Seriously? Not even cheese?" Blaine questioned.

"Ew, no," Rachel wrinkled her nose in disgust as the others ribbed her good naturedly.

"Anyways," Rachel cut in. "You put pineapple on yours. Are you seriously going to give me grief for being a vegan?"

"How do you know I'm not Hawaiian, and didn't grow up with pineapple on my pizza being the norm?" Blaine shot back.

"Are you Hawaiian?" Mike asked.

"No," Blaine grinned.

After ordering the pizza, Puck started the DVD, and dimmed the lights, as everyone got comfortable in their seats.

Blaine could practically feel people's eyes on him, now that the lights were off and they felt like they could examine him without being obvious. He was pretty sure he was being paid closer attention to than the movie.

His paranoia wasn't completely unwarranted, though, since they were all sneaking glances at him.

Kurt, Santana, Brittany and Finn were noticing how well Blaine seemed to be doing and were wondering whether it was an act or not.

Rachel, Mike and Tina were still in a bit of shock at his physical state. They'd been prepared for him to look bad, but even the sweatpants and long sleeved t-shirt he wore couldn't hide the casts, or fading bruises and cuts on his face, neck and hands. But from the way the others had been talking, they'd prepared themselves for some fragile, broken human being, and that wasn't what they were seeing in front of them, so their curiosity and confusion only grew.

The doorbell was a much needed distraction for Blaine, because soon everyone was more consumed with eating than staring at him. Except for Puck, who kept glancing over to make sure Blaine actually _was_ eating.

When Puck got up to go into the kitchen, grabbing his phone off the table, Blaine waited a beat before struggling up and following him in there. "Text Mr. Schuester and tell him I was a good little boy who ate two whole pieces of pizza," Blaine hissed.

Puck jumped about mile, since he hadn't realized Blaine had followed him into the kitchen.

"Fuck, man, don't do that shit. How do you creep in crutches?"

Blaine just glared at him, and motioned towards Puck's cell with his chin. "Well?"

"C'mon, Blaine. Schue just wants to make sure you're okay. You seriously getting pissed that someone cares enough to make sure you eat dinner? I'd think you'd appreciate it."

Blaine sighed, and rested his crutches against the counter before taking a seat at the kitchen table. The crutches clattered to the ground a split second after he sat, but neither boy made a move to pick them up. Blaine's shoulder sagged, and he leveled Puck with a stare.

"Don't think that I'm not grateful to him and to you for everything you two have done for me, because I am. I just," Blaine faltered. "I don't know Puck. I have so much shit I'm trying to come to terms with and deal with all at once and I'm just…I don't know. I don't fuckin' know."

"Overwhelmed?" Puck suggested.

"Yeah," Blaine nodded slowly. "That pretty much sums it up."

"C'mon, you wanna go finish the movie?"

"I haven't been paying attention, so I'm completely lost, but all right," Blaine agreed.

* * *

><p>Will left the Hummel-Hudson household feeling much better about having Carole and Burt's help now that he felt they understood things as well as he did. He told Burt he'd see him Monday morning, since Burt had gotten someone to cover for him at the shop so Carole could work on Monday.<p>

He'd also received a text from Noah saying Blaine had eaten just fine, so all that combined with the change in Blaine he'd seen before he left the house had the glee coach in pretty high spirits as he drove towards his house. The only thing that was still lurking in the back of his mind causing him worry was that with Blaine's improved condition, he knew it wouldn't be long before he needed to start looking into getting Blaine back in classes. He hadn't talked it over with the teen yet, but there was no way he could afford to send Blaine back to Dalton, it just wasn't possible on a meager teacher's salary. He was already feeling the effects in his pocket of having two extra people at his house. Electricity, gas, grocery, all his bills were going to be close to tripled soon. He briefly wondered how Puck and Blaine would feel about living an Amish lifestyle, with candles and no TV, before shaking the thoughts from his head. Although the image of Blaine and Noah churning butter did give him a chuckle.

The problem he was really worried about, though, was he wondered if, for Blaine's mental health, finding a way to send him back to Dalton would actually be the best idea. He knew how the kids at McKinley were, they were cruel, unforgiving and would take any opportunity to knock someone down, more often than not quite literally, in fact. And he wasn't sure that would be the best environment for a kid in Blaine's shoes. However, with the friendship he saw blossoming between Noah and Blaine he had no doubt in his mind that Noah wouldn't hesitate to defend Blaine. The problem with that scenario, was how Blaine would feel about having someone defend him. Sometimes, Will really wished he could just turn his mind and thoughts off for a night.

Glancing at the clock on his dashboard, he was pleased to see that he had plenty of time to stop by and take care of a surprise of sorts for Blaine.

* * *

><p>When Will walked into the house, the movie was finished, and everyone was hanging out in the living room talking, with the TV muted in the background. He took a minute to survey the room before announcing his presence, he couldn't help the sense of pride he felt at his glee students at the way they'd come together to help someone most of them barely knew. Especially Noah. He had to admit, he was floored at the way Noah had been handling himself, and the situation. He could see Noah maturing before his eyes, he sensed a dramatic change in the boy's behavior; as if he was finally realizing his potential and turning into the man Will always knew he could be. Even Noah's grades had improved dramatically over the past couple weeks.<p>

He cleared his throat, and the group of teens immediately glanced up.

"Schue! You missed quite the kegger, I must say," Noah grinned at him from the arm of the chair he was perched on.

"Yeah, a real rager," Blaine rolled his eyes from his seat in the chair next to Noah.

"Well, at least you all cleaned up after yourselves," Will smiled.

"Are we getting kicked out?" Tina asked.

"Well…," Will stalled, pretending to think about it.

"Oh, come on, Mr. Schue, it isn't even ten yet!" Santana piped in.

"All right, all right, you're all free to hang out until midnight. But then, _vámonos_, all of you, understood?"

"Got it," Noah and Blaine responded immediately together.

"All right, very funny. Everyone but the two of you who are currently living here, I mean," Will clarified.

"Blaine, can I talk to you in the kitchen a second?" Will asked, turning and heading away, chuckling at how that prompted everyone to joke that he was in trouble.

A couple minutes later Blaine joined him, sitting in the chair across the table from him.

"What's up?"

"I have something for you," Will replied, sliding a box across the tabletop towards Blaine.

Blaine picked it up, examining it, then looked up questioningly at Will.

"I know you lost your phone somewhere in the field that one night, so I stopped by Verizon, pulled a few strings. Anyways, brand new iPhone, programmed to your old cell number. If you're worried about your dad having that number, we can change the number tomorrow," Will explained.

Blaine blinked at Will, and tiled his head. "But, why?"

"Why what? Blaine, I thought you'd be happy to have a cell phone again."

"I am, don't get me wrong, I really appreciate this, I just don't understand why," Blaine paused, finally looking up and meeting Will's eyes. "I don't understand why you'd do something for me you weren't expected to? You've already given me a place to sleep and are helping me out more than I can ever repay you for."

"Blaine, I don't expect or want you to pay me back for anything. That's not why I'm doing this, that's not why I'm helping you out," Will said gently. He couldn't help but feel a stab of anger towards the boy's father, who had broken his child so completely that he couldn't even understand why someone would do something nice for him unless there was something in it for themselves.

"Then why are you helping me out? I don't get why you seem to care so much," Blaine said honestly.

"Because I care about _you_, Blaine. Maybe I didn't know you before, but I've now seen where you've been, what you've been through. I admire you, Blaine; your strength, your willingness to fight. You could have given up so many times in your life, and a lesser person would have, but you never did. Before you were even placed in my care I found myself worrying and caring about you just as much as I do any one of those students in my living room. I just want you to start breaking down some of these walls you've built around yourself, to start letting people in. I want you to realize that you are someone who is worthy of love, because you are Blaine. Maybe it was never given to you the way you deserved, and maybe I can never truly make up for the things your father and his friends put you through, and honestly, that isn't even what I'm interested in doing right now. But I plan on being there for you, in any way you need me, for the rest of your life."

Will took a breath, making sure he had Blaine's complete attention before continuing. "Blaine, sometimes our paths with others will cross and slowly form together, and we will gradually get to know other people. Other times, our paths will crash into other people's, and we find ourselves caring for someone we barely know so deeply that it affects us to our very core. Both ways can bring about strong relationships and results, and we need people in our lives that we have met both ways. You met Kurt the first way, and you met Noah and me the second way. That doesn't make your relationship with Kurt any less or any more important than your relationships with me and Noah. And that doesn't mean Noah or I care about you any less than Kurt. It just means we haven't had the same amount of time as Kurt to get to know the wonderful person you are. I can't speak for Noah, but I can speak for myself, and your pretty much stuck with me, kiddo. I plan on always being there for you. I just need you to accept that, for nothing more and nothing less than what it is." Will finished his speech, and sat back, studying the array of emotions flashing through Blaine's face and eyes.

Blaine nodded, not trusting himself to really speak right then. Instead he just said a quiet, "Okay. Thank you."

Will smiled, and stood up. "I'm going to go crash the party and make them hang out with a teacher on a Friday night. Come in and join us when you're ready, okay?" He could tell Blaine needed a few minutes to compose himself, so he gave him that and left without another word.

* * *

><p>Kurt got up before Mr. Schuester could rejoin them, and cut him off. "I wanted to speak with Blaine alone, is it okay if I go in there?"<p>

"Yeah, Kurt, maybe just give him a minute or two, though?" Will said

Kurt nodded in agreement, and paced, watching the clock.

* * *

><p>Blaine was about to get up and rejoin everyone when he saw Kurt coming into the kitchen. Kurt gave him a kind smile, and motioned towards the chair Mr. Schuester had just freed up. "May I?"<p>

Blaine nodded, and then raised his eyebrows at Kurt. He knew the boy well enough to know this wasn't a happy accident and that Kurt had been wanting to talk to him in private for some time now.

"So, how are you, Blaine?"

"Wonderful," Blaine muttered.

Kurt shook his head slightly, and sat back in his chair pristinely, crossing his legs and waiting, patiently. He knew silence would bring about the real answer.

Blaine heaved a sigh, and after a minute gave Kurt a real answer. "I don't know, Kurt. It changes, not just from day to day, but from hour to hour, minute to minute. I'm feeling okay one second, and the next I'm so consumed with rage I can't think straight, and then suddenly I feel like just breaking down and crying and giving up."

"You know that's not the answer, though, right?" Kurt tried to keep the alarm out of his voice.

"For the most part. But it sure would be a lot easier," Blaine admitted.

"Since when has Blaine Anderson ever taken the easy way out? Since when have you ever been one to shy away from a little bit of hard work?"

"Since I became tired of fighting all the damn time! Since I got sick of getting the living shit kicked out of me every night! Since I had three men strip me of any dignity I had left!" Blaine exploded, angrily.

Kurt pursed his lips, gathering his thoughts before responding. He knew Blaine's anger wasn't directed towards him, but it still stung a bit to be lashed out at.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Kurt," Blaine said quickly, reading the look on his friend's face. "I'm not mad at you, you've been nothing but supportive, that was uncalled for."

Kurt smiled slightly, and reached across the table, placing his hand on top of Blaine's. "I know. Obviously I can't even begin to understand what you're going through. But I am here for you, no matter what. You know that, right?"

Blaine nodded gratefully. "I know," He responded softly.

"Can I ask a question without pissing you off?" Kurt asked after several minutes of silence.

Blaine nodded, albeit a little unsurely, and Kurt slowly pulled his hand back across the table, placing it in his lap. "What's going on between you and Noah?" He finally asked.

"Uh, what? I'm sorry, but, seriously, what? We're roommates," Blaine knew he was probably babbling a little bit.

"Thou doth protest too much," Kurt said slyly, winking at his friend. "Listen, I'm not trying to pry, and feel free to tell me to mind my own business, but honestly? I have never seen so much sexual tension between two guys who claim they're straight in my entire life."

That would be the moment Puck walked into the kitchen. He choked on the sip of Coke he'd just taken, turned around, and hightailed it back to the living room.

Kurt clapped a hand over his mouth. "Oh my God! I'm so sorry!"

Blaine just shook his head and dropped his head onto the table, resisting the urge to bang it against the wood repeatedly.


	29. Right

_A/N: So, while trying to inspire myself for this chapter, I re-read through the entire story up 'til last chapter. (And of course noticed every little mistake and contradiction) and then when that didn't work, I went through and read all the reviews. That, did work. I can't thank everyone enough for the continued support and patience as I slowly type out Blaine and Puck's story here. That's what really makes me want to continue writing this randomness, even when I'm ready to throw in the towel due to writer's block. Some of you (you know who you are) have been __**incredibly**__supportive in your reviews or for a very few of you, in our PMs. So I would like to take a second and be ultra-cheesy and thank the following people: (I hope I spell everyone's usernames correctly) __**PmYuna, Southern Hemmy, .Vita . Amore. Riso, damonia cassandra, EagleGirl1202, Frelise, PoliVamp, PCJC24, SimplyHappy.**__ I think that's all of you, if I forgot someone, I am sincerely sorry. Also, thank you to all who have favorite and alerted, as well. Always appreciated. _

_P.S. Don't worry, this story is nowhere __near__ done, since I know that may make it sound like it's coming to a close soon. And I still have a few surprises and turns up my sleeve. Trust me, Blaine got a phone for a reason, there's someone I want to contact him because I want to write them into the story in an unforeseeable way and completely out of character. Now…onto Chapter 29, yes?_

* * *

><p>"Everything okay in there, Noah?" Will questioned, as Puck came immediately back into the room. Unfortunately, they'd all heard Blaine's outburst, and after several minutes of silence from the kitchen, Will had suggested Noah go make sure everything was okay.<p>

"What? Oh, yeah. Fine. They're just, um, y'know, talking," Puck said in a rush.

"Okay," Will said slowly, giving Puck a strange look, but letting the subject drop.

Blaine hobbled in a few minutes later, and gave a small wave, while stealthily avoiding eye contact with Puck. "I'm gonna hit the sack, I'm beat," He told everyone, turning around as fast as his injuries and the crutches would allow him, and made a hasty retreat into the safety of his Puck-free room.

He stripped back down to his boxers, wincing every time he moved, and was about to get into bed under the covers, when there was a knock at the door followed by the creak of it opening.

"Hey, Schue asked me to deliver bedtime medica-," Puck stopped in his tracks, thrown off by seeing Blaine practically naked for the second time that night. "Shit, sorry. Uh, here," he threw a handful of pills on the bed. "Painkillers, anti-depressants, sleeping pills, and some sort of pill that helps suppress dreams and nightmares for the PTSD," He gave a rushed out explanation of what they were, before bolting back out of the room calling, "Night!" Over his shoulder.

"Thanks, Kurt. 'Cause things weren't already awkward enough around here," Blaine grumbled under his breath, sitting on his bed and twisting open the cap to a bottle of water. Even something as simple as that was proving difficult right now. Everything hurt, and he wasn't used to doing everyday tasks with his left hand. He was insanely jealous of Lefties and ambidextrous people right now.

After fumbling for a few seconds he managed to get the water open, and swallowed a mouthful of it combined with a handful of pills. Setting the bottle back on his nightstand, he crawled under the covers and was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

* * *

><p>"Noah, can I talk to you a second before I go?" Kurt bombarded Puck the second he stepped out of the bedroom.<p>

Puck sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Fine. Outside," He hissed, heading towards the front porch without giving Kurt a chance to respond.

Kurt rolled his eyes and followed Puck outside, coughing delicately in response to the cigarette Puck was puffing away on angrily.

Now it was Puck's turn to roll his eyes as he fixed Kurt with a glare. "What? Haven't done enough damage for the night?"

"Well excuse me, but are you seriously trying to deny that there's…_something_…going on there?"

"Yeah. 'Cause there ain't."

"Bullshit, Noah. Maybe everyone else is too dense to notice it, but either something happened or someone said something, or-."

"Nothing happened," Puck vehemently denied through clenched teeth.

"Something happened," Kurt countered, placing one hand on his hip, and attempting to stare Puck down.

And that's exactly how everyone found them, in the middle of some weird, staring contest, when the door opened and everyone came out onto the porch.

"Are we interrupting something?" Santana asked, raising her eyebrows.

"No," They both chorused immediately, but the annoyance that was evident in both boy's voices made it sound a lot more like 'yes'.

"O-o-okay," Santana replied. "Well, we're all heading home, I'll talk to you tomorrow, Puck," She placed a quick kiss on his cheek as her and Brittany headed towards their car.

Everyone said their goodbyes quickly, sensing the tension, and Finn told Kurt, "Rachel and I will be in the car when you're ready," Before the pair scurried off.

"I'll leave the back door open," Will told Puck, as he went in the house, flicking the porch light on as he went.

Puck flicked his cigarette into the front yard, turning back around to face Kurt again. In a tired voice he pleaded, "Look for once, can you just stay the fuck out of something that doesn't concern you?"

"It does concern me, Noah. Blaine's my best friend, and he's been through hell and back recently. And now, what? You've decided you have a boy-crush? Last I checked, you were both pretty adamant about being straight. Not to mention you're, well…," Kurt trailed off when he saw the barely concealed rage in Noah's eyes.

"Not to mention I'm what?" Puck asked menacingly, daring Kurt with his eyes to finish the sentence.

"Nothing. Never mind. Just think with the head attached to your neck for once, okay? I don't want to see Blaine hurt again. And I don't really care to see you hurt, either. I'm going to go out on a limb here and make the assumption that while nothing has happened yet, you're both having some feelings you aren't entirely comfortable with. So just keep in mind, I've been there. I consider you just as much a friend as I do Blaine, differences aside. So if you find yourself needing to talk to someone, once you decide to be honest with yourself, that is, you have my number." Kurt studied Noah for a second, before shaking his head somewhat sadly, and heading towards the car where Finn and Rachel were making out (_Gross._) without another word and without giving Noah time to process and reply.

* * *

><p>Puck watched Kurt leave, and then sat on the top step, leaning against the white vinyl siding of the house. "Dammit," He cursed out loud to himself. Was it really that noticeable that <em>Kurt<em> was picking up on it? He was pretty sure that meant he had no hope of hiding his confusing feeling from anyone else, then. Which also meant that Blaine had probably picked up on it. Of course, now that he thought about it, Blaine had seemed just as embarrassed by what Kurt had said. And Kurt had said the tension was between them, not just one-sided. So, did that mean Blaine was having the same conflicting feelings he himself was harboring at the moment?

He was entirely too tired from the day to concentrate on all this, but he was also wanting to make sure Blaine was completely asleep before he went in to the room. He just wasn't sure he could face him right now.

The screen door whined, and Puck turned around to see Mr. Schue sticking his head out it.

"Noah, I'm about to head to bed. You coming in?"

"Yeah," Puck sighed, rising from his seat on the steps, and following his teacher into the kitchen.

"Good night Noah," Will smiled at his student, wondering yet again what exactly had transpired in the kitchen to change everyone's attitudes so drastically in a matter of seconds.

"Night," Puck muttered a reply, opening up the fridge and grabbing a cold piece of pizza which he began to thoughtfully chew on.

Puck took as long as humanly possible, showering, brushing his teeth, shaving, hell he even flossed. When he could finally put it off no longer he headed toward the bedroom, sending up a silent request that Blaine was out and would stay that way all night.

He opened up the door as quietly as possible, and stuck his head in, whispering "Blaine," as he did so. He let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding when there was no reply, and snuck the rest of the way into the room and to his bed on the far side. He stopped at the foot of the bed, and relaxed when he heard the even breathing coming from the bed next to his, signaling his roommate was out cold.

Stealthily, Puck stripped down to his boxers and climbed in between his sheets. He was just starting to fall asleep, his mind in that weird, half-asleep mode where you can hear things going on around you but can't move or respond, when Blaine began to stir.

It started out seemingly harmless, as if he was just readjusting his body, trying to get comfortable. A slight moan escaped his lips, though, and it certainly wasn't one of pleasure. Puck could feel his brain trying to rouse him, but his body was intent on fighting waking up completely tooth and nail. So by the time Puck was able to pry his eyes open and fumble out of bed, Blaine was in a full on flashback, tossing and turning in ways that made Puck have no doubt his body would feel it come morning.

Rubbing his eyes, Puck stumbled through the dark until he was by Blaine's bed. "Blaine," He whispered, placing a hand on the other boys shoulder. "Blaine!" He repeated louder, when he showed no signs of waking.

"No, please, I'm sorry, please," Blaine pleaded, jerking away from the hand on him that he thought belonged to Jimmy.

"Blaine! Wake up! Snap out of it!" Puck gripped his shoulder harder, and shook as gently as he could.

Blaine's eyes slowly opened, but it didn't seem to pull him out of it. He looked right at Puck, and in the faint moonlight that shone through the window, Puck could see it in Blaine's eyes that he wasn't seeing Puck for Puck. Slowly backing off, and raising his hands in mock surrender, Puck began to speak in a soothing tone to the other boy.

"Blaine, it's me, it's Puck. Whatever you think you're seeing right now isn't real. I'm real. Me. Noah Puckerman." He waited a minute and the only response he got was a slight whimper and shake of the head, as Blaine slowly sat up and scooted farther away, placing more space between the teens. "Blaine?" Puck questioned softly.

"P-puck?" Blaine said, sounding unsure, as if he was trying out saying a new word in an unfamiliar language for the first time.

"Yeah, Blaine, I'm right here. It's me, Puck," He took a tentative step toward Blaine. Then another and another, until he was right next to his bed again.

Blaine continued to stare at him, biting his lip, and Puck stood still again until he could see he recognition slowly begin to dawn in Blaine's eyes. He waited another minute until he was sure Blaine was seeing him for him, and then he reached his hand out ever so slowly again until it was resting on Blaine's hand which was clenching the sheet cover.

Puck felt a spark of electricity as he gently squeezed Blaine's hand, and tried not to think too much about what it meant. Blaine's hand underneath his trembled ever so slightly, but released it's death grip on the sheet, and they stayed like that, Puck towering over Blaine, his hand on top of the other boys for quite some time.

The trembling slowed until it stopped completely, and Blaine's ragged breathing began to even out once again, the fear and terror gone from his eyes. Out of nowhere, Blaine turned his hand, so that the boys were touching palm to palm, and then gripped it into a hand hold, tugging Puck towards the bed.

At least that was what Puck hoped he was trying to convey, because Puck's body had begun to climb into bed with the other boy without his brain's consent. Puck settled down next to Blaine, and in a synchronized motion, as if they had done it a million times, as if their bodies were used to each other's, Blaine curled up into Pucks open arms, and Puck arms circled around Blaine, pulling him in close.

As Blaine began to completely wake from the foggy haze of his flashback, he started to notice that right there, laying in a bed next to Puck, in his arms, he felt like he'd finally found the home he'd been searching for his whole life. He didn't care how little he knew about the guy holding him, only that nothing had ever felt more right in his life.

* * *

><p>For the second night in a row, Blaine and Puck lay in the same, small bed together. Every time Blaine began to tremble or get fitful, Puck was right there, calming him with a soft voice, brushing his thumb along the back of Blaine's good hand, reminding him where he was, keeping him grounded.<p>

In the early dawn, Blaine turned around as best he could, pressing his face into Puck's chest, and Puck could feel the moisture from recently shed tears making a slow sideways trail down his chest.

"Shhh," Puck said gently, tightening his grip on Blaine as tight as he could without causing him pain. "You're safe now. No one's ever going to hurt you again. I promise."

Blaine drew in a tattered breath and spoke against Puck's chest. "What does this mean?"

Puck didn't need to ask Blaine to elaborate on the question. He knew exactly what Blaine was getting at.

"I don't know, and right now I don't care. All I know is you need me, I want to be here for you, and it feels right holding you in the night," Puck gave an answer more honest than he'd even admitted to himself before that point.

Without thinking about his next move, Puck placed a gentle kiss on the mop of curly hair under his chin. Blaine's only response was to try and move even closer towards the body he was pressed against, snuggling into Puck and falling into a deep sleep, feeling completely safe and secure for only the second time in his life.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Ick, fluff. I hate writing fluff and I suck at it. But I hope those of you who have been pushing for more fluff between the boys are satisfied, because I miss my angsty goodness. But don't fret, I promise I'll continue to throw little fluffy bits of cotton candy sweetness in here and there._


	30. Friends

From somewhere off in the distance, Blaine heard the faint sound of a door opening and closing. He didn't really think about it until he heard the footsteps falling through the silent house, and stared to wake up a little more. Groggily, he blinked his eyes open, and picked his head up from where it was shoved into Puck's chest, trying to figure out where he was and what was going on through the haze of a drug induced sleep. His mind slowly began to catch up to his body as he heard another door, this one slightly closer, open and close, and footsteps headed away. Groaning, he realized he'd heard Mr. Schuester walking around his bedroom and into his private bath, and now he was headed towards the boys room. Or the kitchen. It was a Saturday after all, would Mr. Schuester be the type to wake them up and make them get up early, or would he let them sleep in and leave them be? Judging by the direction of the footsteps, it was going to be the first, it seemed like.

It took about half a second for Blaine to realize that if Mr. Schuester opened the door and found them, well, _cuddling_, in bed, half naked no less, it would not go over well. Blaine couldn't think of any way to get out of bed fast enough, so, on reflex, he shoved Puck out of his bed, which is how, when Will opened the door, he found Blaine half awake in his bed, and Puck sprawled on the floor between the two boy's beds, sputtering angrily.

"Morning," Blaine mumbled sleepily to a slightly shell shocked Mr. Schuester, and an extremely pissed off looking Puck.

"Uh, good morning, guys. Listen, quick question. Why is Puck on the floor?" Will asked.

"He just fell out of bed a second ago, that was what woke me up actually. I dunno, Mr. Schuester, maybe you should look into to getting some of those bed rails for toddlers or old, dying people for Puck," Blaine lied, smiling deviously at the glee teacher, and ignoring Puck's death stare that he could feel burning into him.

"Okay," Will replied, scratching his head and still looking a little confused. "Puck, you okay?"

"Just fine. I move around a lot in my sleep and I'm not used to this small of a bed, apparently," Puck muttered through clenched teeth, while continuing to glare at Blaine, who just began to innocently whistle and study the fascinating white ceiling.

"Okay," Will repeated, not looking like he was entirely convinced, but shaking his head and turning to leave anyways.

Puck waited until Will had shut the door behind him and walked away to grab a pillow off his bed and whack Blaine with it in his good shoulder. "What the fuck, man?"

"We had two choices. Mr. Schuester finding us lying in bed together, or you getting shoved to the floor. I took a vote of every waking person in the room, and we decided shoving you off the bed was the better option," Blaine responded, turning his patented puppy dog eyes on the taller teen.

Puck tried to stay annoyed, but found it hard with those big, honey colored eyes turned on him, and Blaine giving him that innocent, sweet look.

"You suck," Puck grumbled, as he left to head towards the bathroom.

* * *

><p>Once in the bathroom, Puck splashed cold water on his face, and then leaned against the counter, resting his head on the cool, smooth mirror above the sink. With the sunshine that took away the night and brought upon a new day, Puck's certainty from the night before was also taken away.<p>

_What the hell am I doing?_ He questioned himself for the umpteenth time. There were so many things wrong with this, no matter how right it felt the night before, that he didn't even know which one to begin with. There was the fact that he and Blaine were both straight and yet last night Puck had to use all of his control to keep from shoving his tongue down the other boy's throat. Then there was the fact that no matter what type of breakthrough Blaine may have had yesterday, he was still fragile. Like a vase that had been broken, and glued back together, broken and glued, broken and glued to the point where a gust of wind could cause it to shatter so devastatingly that it could never be put back together again.

While Puck could imagine all too well the pain the other boy had suffered at the hands of his father, the things his dad's friends had put him through…that wasn't something Puck could even begin to imagine. And honestly, he didn't want to. Which made him respect Blaine even more. He couldn't even handle thinking about it, and Blaine had lived it. Over and over and over again.

Blaine had never once spoken of it though. He talked about his dad here and there, but the other two? Never. Not a word. Which made Puck wonder if maybe he hadn't really even begun to deal with what those assholes had done to him. Which in turn made Puck realize there was no way he could even consider putting the moves on Blaine. Who knew at what point a flashback would hit him? And who knew what could trigger it?

And anyways, that brought him right back to the whole thing where they were both straight. Puck had been around the block, hell, Puck had been around the whole damn town. But that was with chicks. Not other guys. How did he even know what he was feeling for Blaine was anything in the romantic sense anyway? He didn't have a brother, maybe it was something more akin to brotherhood. _Yeah, 'cause all the brothers I know think about making out with each other and can't take their eyes off their brother when he's in his boxers_, Puck scoffed at himself.

With no decisions about anything even close to made, and his head even more screwed up then when he entered the bathroom, Puck had to resist the urge to bang his head against the mirror.

* * *

><p>Blaine watched Puck leave the room, and turned back over in his bead, shoving his pillow over his head and groaning. <em>What the fuck are we doing?<em> He thought to himself. Except for Kurt he really only had one other good, close male friend, but even that dude was gay. _Better question, why are the only two guys you've ever been close friends with gay?_ His brain asked. "Shut up," Blaine scolded it. He didn't really know how these guy friendships worked, but he was pretty sure Puck and Finn never spent the night cuddling in bed. _Two nights,_ His smartass brain pointed out. "Seriously, _shut. Up,_" He told it again.

Mr. Schuester poked his head back in the door, asking what Blaine wanted for breakfast.

"Not hungry," He mumbled.

"Too bad. You need to take your pills and you can't do it on an empty stomach," Mr. Schuester informed him. "All right, then I'm making bacon and eggs. I'll holler when it's done."

Walking away, Will had to wonder what exactly had happened over night. Both boys were acting strangely this morning. Maybe Blaine had had another flashback or nightmare? And why the hell had Puck been on the floor? Wasn't he a little bit too old to be falling out of bed?

* * *

><p>Breakfast that morning was a strained affair, with Will trying to keep the conversation going, and Puck uncharacteristically quiet and Blaine seeming as if he was regressing from yesterday's improvement.<p>

Eventually, Will gave up, and just continued to eat in a contemplative silence like everyone else at the table seemed content to do. He kept a watchful look on Blaine, though, making sure he took all the pills and ate his breakfast.

After forcing down two eggs, three pieces of bacon, a piece of toast, and some orange juice, Blaine looked up hopefully. "Can I be excused?"

Will nodded. "Why don't you get dressed and washed up best you can, I'm supposed to have a meeting with a lawyer today about the trial, and if you're feeling up to it, I'd like you to come. You too Puck," Will added. "I'm supposed to be there in two hours."

Blaine paled slightly, but nodded his consent. Grabbing his crutches, he hobbled back towards the bedroom, where the phone Mr. Schuester had given him was beeping with an incoming text. He was confused at first until he remembered Mr. Schuester had said he'd programmed it with his old number. Steeling himself for the worst, Blaine picked it up.

He instantly recognized he number that displayed on the screen, it was one he'd called in panic from a phone booth quite a few times when his cell hadn't been charged and he needed a safe place to crash where no questions would be asked.

_Where the hell have you been and why the hell aren't you answering my texts? If you're dead, could you haunt me and tell me?_

Blaine shook his grinning, as he tried to figure out what to say.

_Moved, sorry, man, it was last minute .Just got my phone back on, too .I have some stuff to take care of this afternoon, can I call you a little later?_ He hit send, and hoped that would keep his friend off his back for a couple hours while he thought up a really good story.

His phone beeped a minute later with a reply. _Fine. But I want the whole story. And for the first time in our 17 yrs of friendship, I want the real story, Blaine. Glad you're alive._

_Shit_, Blaine thought. He should have known sooner or later the other boy would make him come clean. They'd literally been friends since the day they were born. The hospital had been overcrowded, and no amount of monetary bribing could pull the necessary strings for Mr. Anderson to get his wife a private birthing room. So she'd been forced to deliver in a room with another woman, who'd she'd bonded with. When they both had little boys, they made instant play dates, and the rest was, as they say, history.

Blaine had been going to this kid's house for safety and an escape for as long as he could remember. The other kid had started to notice something was different around middle school, when he realized that Blaine would never change in front of him, or invite him over to his house, or talk about his father, or one of another hundred reasons. But out of respect for Blaine, and a couple of heated arguments that had resulted in the two of them not speaking for weeks, he'd learned to give Blaine his space and not question him. And Blaine knew he always had a warm, safe bed when needed.

Once they'd gotten to high school, and Blaine's father had gotten worse, a distance had grown between them, but he was still always there for Blaine, no questions asked. The more Blaine had begun to use pills to cope, the less he saw of his friend, not wanting him to notice that he'd become an addict.

Sighing, Blaine figured that after all that he probably owed him a real explanation. The truth, even though Blaine was pretty sure he'd guessed at least some of it. Blaine struggled back out to the living room, where Puck and Mr. Schuester sat watching something Blaine didn't recognize.

"Um, Mr. Schuester?" Blaine asked, quietly, unsurely.

"Yeah, Blaine?" Will hit the mute button, turning around to face the boy.

Blaine fidgeted and hen said in a rush, "So I have this friend I've known forever, and I just got a text from him, I guess he's been worrying where I was, anyways, I figure I owe him the truth, and I'd rather do it in person, so can I invite him over here for dinner?"

"Sure," Mr. Schueser readily agreed, thinking that this had to be a good sign. Blaine wanted to talk to an old friend, was ready to come clean to someone of his own free will. And maybe telling someone he was comfortable around would make it easier to tell a courtroom full of strangers.

"Thanks," Blaine mumbled, hurrying back to his room best he could. He hated asking for favors.

Picking up his phone he sent off another text. _If I text you an address you want to come over here around six? It's not far._

"Hey Blaine," Will knocked on the doorframe and poked his head in yet again.

"Yeah?" Blaine looked up, startled, and dropped his phone.

Will smiled, walkling in and picking it up and handing it to him. "Need the address?"

"Oh, yeah."

Will told it to him, and Blaine sent a second text with the address. It only took a second for the reply to come back. _I'll be there. See you at 6._

"Well?" Will asked.

"He'll be here at six," Blaine told him.

"Perfect. I'll make hamburgers or something, all right?"

Blaine nodded. "Sounds good." He was not looking forward to either of his appointments today.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Okay, this is short and filler, but necessary to get to the next chapter. Which will be up sometime tomorrow, with any luck! I'm sure most of you can guess who Blaine's friend is. Chapter 31 will be much more interesting, longer and intense, promise. el will have a meeting with the lawyer, and get to meet Blaine's buddy, as well._


	31. Courage

_A/N: Whew. Okay, so this chapter's a doozy, we cover a good bit of ground and I'm worn the fuck out from writing this. But I think it more than makes up for last night's disappointing but necessary filler chapter. It was actually going to be longer originally, but I felt it was a good place to end it and post, where I left off, or risk having too much going on in one chapter. Possibly will have 32 up tonight, but no promises. I'm emotionally exhausted after writing all of this, and need some time to re-coup. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>Blaine climbed out of Mr. Schuester's car with a bit of difficulty, and took the crutches Puck held out for him with a mumble of thanks.<p>

"Ready?" Will asked the pair, but his attention was on Blaine.

Blaine gave a noncommittal shrug, and started slowly making his way towards the door of the building that read _'James E. Winters & Associates, Attorneys at Law'_.

Will went in ahead of the boys, and walked up to the receptionist. "Hi, Will Schuester, I have an appointment with Mr. Winters?"

The secretary, who looked slightly harried, glanced up at Will, but her eyes immediately swooped over to where Blaine was coming in the front door as Puck held it open for him. Years of experience had taught her to keep her emotions in check, though, and she gave away no hint of surprise. "Yes sir, he said to send you on back when you came in. Did you want to meet with him alone first, or," She left the question open-ended.

Will shook his head. The last thing Blaine needed was knowing that two men were in a room discussing him and his father. "No, I'd like them both to come back if that's okay."

"Yes sir," She repeated, picking up her telephone and pressing the button for her boss's office. "Mr. Schuester is here, I'm sending him back now," She said in a clipped voice, before replacing the phone back in its cradle. She turned back to Will and pointed towards a door behind her to the left. "Right through that door there."

"Thank you," Will replied, motioning at Blaine and Puck, and holding the door open for Blaine.

"You must be Will Schuester, we spoke phone I believe," A lawyer who was quite a bit younger than Will had originally expected stood from behind a large desk, holding a hand out and greeting him.

"Yes, Mr. Winters, I presume?" Will shook his hand, and sat in the middle seat the lawyer indicated, with Blaine on his left and Puck on his right.

"James, please. And you must be Blaine Anderson?" He turned a questioning gaze upon Blaine.

Blaine just gave a slight nod and started back into the bad habit he'd recently picked up of fidgeting.

"And you are," He asked with a polite smile turning lastly to Puck.

"This is Noah Puckerman, he's one of my students, he's staying with Blaine and I temporarily," That was all the explanation Will offered.

James accepted this and smiled in greeting at Puck, who just glared back. Puck was not going to trust this man until he proved he was worthy of it. Which meant, he wouldn't gain Puck's trust until Blaine's father, Jimmy and Bruce were behind bars. Permanently.

"So. Will here, is it okay if I call you Will?" A quick nod from Will and James continued. "Will here has told me his part of the story, Blaine, if you could I'd like to hear some things from you. I know this isn't the easy thing to discuss-"

"How?" Blaine interrupted him.

"I'm sorry?"

"How do you know if this is easy to discuss or not? Have you been in my shoes? Have you dealt with an abusive father?"

"Well, no. Look, Blaine, what I mean is," James stopped, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "From what Will has told me about your dad, and Jimmy and Bruce, I want nothing more than to help you lock these guys away for good. But I can't do that without your help, without your cooperation. You alone could win this case. If you are willing to testify, than honestly? I'm not needed. Will's testimony isn't needed. Your friends, the doctors, the psychologists, their testimonies won't make a difference. _You_ will make a difference. You get up on that stand and tell them everything you've lived through, everything they put you through and I guarantee you they will return with a guilty verdict and I'm pushing for life without parole."

"Then what the hell are we paying you for?" Blaine asked.

James smiled confidently, mischievously, giving Will a quick glance, before looking back at Blaine. "Because I can help you get not only life without parole, but every penny in your father's deep, deep pockets."

* * *

><p>James immediately had everyone's attention.<p>

Blaine though for a second then shrugged. "I don't want his money."

Puck looked at Blaine like he'd sprouted wings.

"What?" Blaine challenged.

"Nothing," Puck held his hands up. "Aside from the fact that you're certifiable."

"All right, Puck, remember that whole time and place conversation a couple days ago?" Will cut in. "This would be an excellent time to put it back into effect."

Puck rolled his eyes, but quit talking and slumped back in his seat.

"All right, fine. You don't want his money. I understand that. But you know a guaranteed way to piss him off even more? Use that money to better your own life and then donate to charities. Charities that help children who are victims of abusive parents," James suggested.

Blaine opened his mouth, then closed it. That really would piss his father off beyond belief. "The only guarantee I want, is that all three of them get locked up far the fuck away from me."

"Blaine, like I said before, if you're willing to work with me, I can guaran-fucking-tee you that," James said, smiling with a cool assurance.

"Fine, then tell me what you need from me."

"The story. The entire story, every little nitty gritty detail. From the day you were born until your last trip in the hospital. Then I need you to repeat that story on a stand, in a courtroom, in front of the judge, the jury, your friends, and yes, your father and his friends as well."

"Fine," Blaine repeated through clenched teeth, his good hand gripping the arm of his chair so tight his knuckles were white. Blaine's gaze hardened, and he stared at an invisible spot on the wall behind James. Without looking to either Mr. Schuester or Puck, he opened his mouth, and began to speak. For the first time in his life he let it all come out. Every hit, every kick, every vicious word that had ever been thrown at him and every horrendous act that had ever been committed against him.

From the moment he opened his mouth he had a captivated, and nauseated , audience. His voice was emotionless, at times even cold. He didn't stop, though, even when everyone in the room could tell it was taking courage he wasn't even aware he had to continue Blaine plowed on. The longer he talked, the angrier he sounded. The emptiness that had been so prevalent in his voice in the beginning giving way to a thinly concealed rage.

Will turned his head, unable to look at Blaine through some of it, finding himself getting angry right along with Blaine. But unlike the boy that had been placed in his care, Will's anger was overshadowed by something else. Sadness and despair and devastation. A sickness in the pit of his stomach at what the Blaine had experienced, even as a young boy. An amazement at just how cruel human beings really could be to one another. He also felt something else. Something he hadn't expected. Pride.

He was proud of Blaine. The longer he talked, the less broken he became. Will could see Blaine's strength growing as he desperately squeezed his eyes shut, walking the three people in the room through his life. Will knew that something deep inside Blaine was repairing itself right then and there, Blaine's resolve to get better, to start to live again was coming back full force.

Puck found himself wanting to place his hands over his ears and hum loudly to block it out, but for Blaine's sake, he sat there quietly, giving Blaine his full attention, and listening to every sordid detail. His hands clenched in fists by his sides, wanting to punch something, or someone. Wanting to punch three some ones, actually. And not stop until they felt every bit of pain Blaine had been forced to feel.

James sat back in his chair, disturbingly enthralled with the story, hypnotized watching Blaine talk. He couldn't wait to get in the court room and expose all three of those men for what they really were. He knew without a doubt that not only would this be the easiest case he'd ever tried to win, but the most satisfying, as well. This was what James lived for. This was why he became a lawyer.

Blaine almost stopped as he got towards the end, telling everyone in the room about what had happened while Puck and Will had been racing towards his house. But he forced himself to go on, the fingers on his left hand digging so hard into his palm that he could feel them break the skin and could feel a slight bit of blood seep out. "That's when I blacked out. You know the rest," He shrugged, almost as if it was nothing. As if it didn't hurt him to think about, anger him to remember.

No one spoke for a long time, everyone too afraid to break the spell and not sure what to say anyway.

"Blaine," Will finally began, taking a hand and placing it on Blaine's shoulder. He should have known better, that had never been well received in the past. Blaine shoved Will's hand off him the second it was laid down, and struggled to stand, grabbing his crutches.

"Don't. Just don't," He replied in an angry tone, that was directed at no one and yet everyone.

* * *

><p>"Blaine, stop! Wait!" Puck ran into the parking lot after a surprisingly fast-moving Blaine.<p>

Blaine turned to face Puck, and all the anger had drained from his face. His eyes were shining with unshed tears, and he looked like he wanted nothing more than to drop onto the ground, broken and crying. Not for the first time, Puck found himself suddenly speechless and unsure as he studied the boy standing across from him that he was just getting to know.

In a voice that betrayed him by cracking, Blaine asked a tired "What?"

Puck made a move to the bench outside of James' office, and after a moment's hesitation, Blaine joined him and sat next to him, their knees brushing through the thick fabric of their jeans.

"I-I," Puck faltered, stopped, thought for a second and then began again. "I knew what you went through was horrible, I just never realized quite how horrible. Or maybe I never wanted to realize just how bad it was for you. Either way, I thought maybe I understood where you were coming from a bit, but what I went through? It pales in comparison to just a day in the life of you."

Blaine shook his head. "No it doesn't," He said softly, but assuredly.

Puck shot him a questioning look, and Blaine continued on. "Did your dad hit you?" He asked, waiting for Puck's answer.

Puck gave him another confused look, but nodded.

"He kick you?" Another question, another hesitant nod. "Do the same to your mom?" More motions repeated. "Tear you down, make you feel worthless, like you didn't deserve to live? Make you so angry you began to hate everyone around you? Him, your mom for letting him get away with it, yourself for never fighting back?"

With a shaky breath, Puck gave one final nod, and started to ask where Blaine was going with all this, but Blaine cut him off. "Then what you experienced, and what I experienced are one and the same. Maybe yours didn't last as long. Maybe it never got as…_physical_…as my abuse did. But nothing about what you dealt with and what you felt is any less important or pales in any type of comparison to my life. It's all the same. We both got stuck with shitty parents. But were both sitting here free from them for now, aren't we?"

"Yeah," Puck said softly, amazed at Blaine's insight.

"Tell me your story," Blaine eventually suggested.

"What? Why?" Puck asked.

Blaine shrugged. "You heard mine. I've never told it before. Not all of it. I've never even allowed myself to fully think about it before. I'm guessing neither have you. And you know what I feel after telling you guy's all that?" A shake of the head from Puck. "Relieved. Like a weight's been lifted. Like it's just going to get easier to talk about, easier to deal with now. How long have you been keeping your story in?"

Puck shrugged and muttered, "I dunno."

"Aren't you sick of it? Sick of never talking about it? Sick of carrying it around? Feeling like you have this huge, dirty secret that no one wants to hear and no one could understand anyways? Sick of keeping silent when all you want to do is scream?"

Puck thought for a minute, then nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

"Well there's someone sitting next to you right now who wants to hear it and who will understand," Blaine said quietly, placing a hand on Puck's shoulder.

* * *

><p>Puck took a deep breath and let it out slowly. If Blaine could talk about seventeen years of abuse, than surely he could bring himself to talk about five years worth of it. He twisted his hand nervously in his lap, until finally Blaine brought his own hand down from Puck's shoulder, and gently stilled Puck's hands with his own. With Blaine's hand on his, Puck found the determination to suck it up and talk about something he'd been holding in for far too long.<p>

"Unlike your dad, mine didn't start out as a monster. He was a pretty cool dad when I was little. He taught me to play catch, taught me to play football, taught me to sing, even, believe it or not. But then, my parent's started having money troubles, and my dad started to deal with that by drinking. He was still a nice guy when he wasn't drunk, but he was rarely sober.

"The first time he hit me I was eight years old. I'd gone out to play outside before dinner, and I was late getting back, not to mention covered in mud, so my mom was pissed," Puck stopped, he could still picture that day perfectly in his mind. It still made occasional appearances in his nightmares, as well.

Blaine could sense Puck's resolve weakening, and without think, he did what felt most natural. He took his hand off of Pucks, slipped it underneath, and linked their hands together with their fingers. That small movement gave Puck the strength he was searching for, and he picked back up where he'd left off.

"Anyways, my dad was out of his mind drunk. The moment I walked in the door, covered head to toe in mud, he just, I don't know, lost it. He started screaming at me, telling me I was inconsiderate, that I needed to apologize to my mother, that I never did anything but cause trouble and get in the way. By the time he was done talking he was standing above me, I was just staring up at him, scared shitless. My dad never raised his voice, _never._ Then out of nowhere, he just reared back and socked me in the face. I remember my mom gasping and yelling at him, but he just shoved her down, and hit me again. Then again. And again. Until eventually he quit and I ran up to my room, thinking it had been a onetime thing. He'd lost his temper; he'd never do that again.

"He came up to my room a couple hours later and told me as much. Said that it was my fault, that I just made him so angry, and he needed to make me see reason. Then he tucked me into bed, kissed me and told me he loved me." Puck finally got the nerve to risk a glance at Blaine. The other boy was watching him carefully, willing him to go on silently, but refusing to interrupt Puck, knowing that could ruin the moment and make Puck clam up for good. So Puck continued.

"The next time it happened was similar circumstances about a month later. Than a week later. Than just a couple days. Each time my mom's involvement was less, until eventually she wasn't even trying to stop him. And each time, after my dad sobered up he'd come find me, telling me again how sorry he was but that it was my fault. Until one day, when I was thirteen he left for work and just never came home. I haven't seen him since that morning. We have no idea what happened to and where he went, and honestly I could give a shit less. We filed a missing persons report but never heard anything. Personally, I hope he drove his damn car off a cliff and died in a fiery explosion."

* * *

><p>It took about two seconds after Blaine left for Noah to jump up and run after him. Will watched them leave, and shook his head sadly.<p>

"Do you need to?" James asked, motioning after the two boys.

"No," Will replied after a moment. "Noah's probably the only one who can calm Blaine down right now and get through to him anyway. Those two seemed to have bonded a bit, Noah had an abusive father awhile back as well, so Blaine trusts Noah," Will explained. "If you don't mind I'll stay here for a minute and give them a chance to talk."

"That's fine," James agreed. "Can I get you a coffee?"

"Sure," Will replied, and James picked up his phone, speaking quickly to his secretary, who appeared at the door a minute later with two cups of hot coffee. "Thank you," Will said taking the cup from her and sipping at it.

James waited until his secretary had left, and shut the door to turn to Will. "I know what you're thinking. I'm too young to handle this case, I can't have the experience necessary, I'm wet behind the ears."

Will let out a small laugh. "Maybe," He agreed.

"Well, let me set the record straight. I grew up around lawyers. My father was one, my grandfather was one, my uncles were lawyers, all I've ever known or ever wanted to be, was a lawyer. I graduated Harvard, top of my class, and then graduated from Harvard Law, again top of my class. I opened up my own practice after a few years of working with my dad, because we clashed in our styles. He wanted to have large corporations as clients and big payouts. I wanted to do a little too much Pro-Bono for his taste, and help out the people who really needed someone with the knowledge and expertise to fight for their rights and correct the wrongs.

"I'm not your typical lawyer who drives a Mercedes Benz and lives in a mansion. I live in an apartment and lease a Hyundai Elantra, because it's all I can afford. I've done more cases for free than I have ones where I charged. I have no doubt in my mind we can put all three of those men behind bars for a very, very long time. However, I can't guarantee anything as far as how much money I can get for damages, but I dream big, and I'm going for everything. But if worse comes to worst, and we can get a jail sentence, but no money, then I won't charge you or that boy a damn dime, for my services." James finished up, his eyes drilling into Will's, flashing with determination.

"I couldn't just not pay you," Will protested weakly.

"And I couldn't accept money for this case unless money is won," James countered.

"Listen, why don't you take a night to think about, talk it over with Blaine, maybe, and call me tomorrow? I won't be in the office, but my cell and home phone number are both on my card. Decide if you want to hire me, and if you decide you think I'm your man, then we'll set up another meeting, and start filing the paperwork and preparing for a trial. But for now, why don't you go check on those boys of yours?"

Will smiled, his mind already pretty made up, but took the card James held out, and placed his empty coffee cup on the desk. "Thank you."

James just nodded, and turned towards his computer as Will let himself out.

* * *

><p>Blaine and Puck both startled as the door next o the bench opened, and they quickly jumped apart, pulling their hands free, and looking up guiltily at Will, who didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary.<p>

"Blaine, you okay?" Will asked softly.

Blaine nodded, but didn't say anything. His mind was still on Puck. In a way, he felt as if what Puck had been through was worse than what he'd been through. All Blaine had ever known was abuse. Puck had lost a lot more when his father turned on him. Puck had lost the one thing Blaine had never had. A dad.

"You guys ready to head home? It's almost five, we need to swing by the store, get stuff for dinner, and then your friend will be coming over at six," Will reminded Blaine.

"Sounds good, Schue!" Puck said a little too brightly, standing up quickly and strolling off in the direction of the car. Will gave Blaine a puzzled look, which he pretended not to see as he rose from the bench, taking his crutches and limping towards the car after Puck.

"Teenagers," Will muttered under his breath. After a second, though, he followed the two teens toward the vehicle as well.

* * *

><p>When they got home it was quarter to six, and both Blaine and Puck went straight to their room, leaving Will to unpack the groceries. He couldn't help but notice that they'd both been acting weird since leaving the lawyer's office. All he could figure out was that Blaine was drained from the meeting, and Puck was off from hearing about Blaine and most likely being forced to re-live a bit of his past, as well.<p>

Blaine immediately laid down in his bed when he got into their room and Puck hesitated for a second, and then closed and locked the door. He had fifteen minutes until Blaine's friend arrived, and he wanted to make the most of them.

He walked over and stood above Blaine. "Scoot," he said gruffly.

Blaine glanced at him, looked like he was going to resist, and then gave in and made room on the small bed for Puck. Puck kicked off his shoes, and made himself comfortable in Blaine's bed, realizing that since he'd arrived at Mr. Schue's, he hadn't spent one full night in his own bed, had actually spent more time in another boy's bed. But right now he was too emotionally worn out to think about what it meant and what was going on. He was beginning to think he needed Blaine more than Blaine needed him.

Blaine laid stiffly next to Puck for a minute until Puck turned on his side, so he was facing Blaine, who was still on his back. Blaine turned his head towards Puck and the boys locked eyes, saying more in that glance than they could have with words. Blaine gave in again, and turned towards Puck, who immediately gathered the smaller boy in his arms, and Blaine shoved his head back in Puck's chest where it'd been that morning, his body shaking as he finally let himself cry the tears he'd been holding in since leaving the lawyer's office.

Puck tangled one hand in Blaine's hair, and with his other hand, he gently stroked Blaine's back, cautious of the stab wound, quietly soothing the other boy, still shaken up pretty good himself as well.

* * *

><p>Will put the last of the groceries away, and glanced up as he heard a car pulling into the gravel drive. He peered out the window and saw a brand new, cherry red Chevy Corvette pulling in. He looked at the clock on the wall and saw it was six on the dot. That meant there was only one person it could conceivably be, especially in a car worth more than his house.<p>

"Blaine! Your friend's here!" He called out, watching a teenager exit the driver's side, and hearing the beep beep as he turned on his car's alarm. "And apparently he's not impressed with the neighborhood," Will said to himself.

The kid made his way to the door, glancing around with a thinly veiled distatste, causing Will to roll his eyes and hope the kid wasn't as stuck up as he was coming across before even entering the house.

Will backed away from the window, calling for Blaine again as a knock came at the front door.

"Hi," Will said opening the door to reveal a lanky kid with sandy brown hair, who was dressed impeccably well.

"Hello. I'm looking for Blaine Anderson? Am I at the right house?" The kid responded, raising an eyebrow and casting another look around.

Will realized with relief it wasn't so much that the kid was a snob, just that he thought he was in the wrong place since he obviously knew how rich Blaine's dad was, and was , without doubt, from a family every bit as wealthy if not more so.

"Yeah, come on in," Will held the door open, ushering the teen inside and shutting it behind them. They both turned at the sound of crutches on linoleum, as Blaine hobbled into the kitchen.

"Sebastian," Blaine acknowledged quietly.


	32. Jealousy

"What the fuck happened to you?" Sebastian asked Blaine, even though he knew the answer. He'd known Blaine his whole life, and while Blaine may have never come right out and said it, Sebastian wasn't stupid. He knew his dad hit him. He just never realized how badly. "Where the hell is your dad? I'm going to fucking kill him," Sebastian seethed.

"Mr. Schuester, Puck, this is my friend Sebastian, we grew up together. Sebastian this is Will Schuester and Noah Puckerman," Blaine ignored Sebastian's outburst.

"Pleasure, I'm sure," Sebastian rolled his eyes, reached behind him, and opened the door. "Blaine, a word?" He walked out, sure that Blaine would follow.

"Sorry, uh, excuse us a minute," Blaine mumbled, as he went outside after his friend.

The second the door closed, Sebastian turned on Blaine, and he wasn't a quiet guy, so Puck and Will could hear the entire conversation without even trying

"Dammit, Blaine!" Sebastian exploded."I'm not an idiot, I figured out why you always needed to stay over and would never even take your shirt off in front of me back in middle school. But you never hinted at just how bad it was! You let me go along, thinking it was next to nothing, and he's doing shit like, like _this_," Sebastian motioned at Blaine. "To you? And you never told me? Never told anyone? My parents would have let you move in, you know that! How do you think I would have felt if you'd ended up dead? Which it looks like you barely escaped from?" Sebastian wasn't yelling by the time he was done, he just sounded distressed.

Blaine didn't know how to reply to any of that, so he was quiet for a long time before he finally offered up a, "Sorry?"

"Blaine I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to be safe." Sebastian grew quiet, and then jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "So who the hell are they?"

"The people who saved me," Blaine replied. "Mr. Schuester is my friend Kurt's glee coach over at McKinley, and Puck is in glee, too. They kinda happened upon me one night. Rescued me. From my dad, from myself."

"I want to know what happened. I deserve to know what happened," Sebastian said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

How could Blaine deny him the truth after everything he'd done for him over the years? For the second time in the same day, Blaine tapped into his inner strength, drew in a deep breath, and launched into his story.

* * *

><p>The second Blaine stared telling Sebastian everything he'd lived through, Puck and Will both walked away, unable to stand hearing it a second time.<p>

"So who's this punk?" Puck asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but failing.

"I don't know, just an old friend of Blaine's," Will responded, glancing at Puck. "Something wrong, Noah?"

"No. Just tired. I think I'm going to go lay down until dinner," He muttered.

"Feel free to do some homework," Will called after him.

Puck ignored that comment and stomped into his and Blaine's room grumpily. He wasn't sure why he was so pissed, but he wanted to knock that smug look off that pretty boy's face. _You're jealous_, his mind supplied helpfully.

That just annoyed him farther, and he kicked the door closed behind him, pretending not to hear Will's protest at him slamming doors.

He knew he was being irrational, but that didn't make him feel any less, well, whatever it was he was feeling. _Jealousy_, his brain reminded him. _I am not jealous, there's no way I'm jealous. First off, Sebastian's just a friend, Blaine said so himself. Secondly, how do you even know Sebastian's gay? Never mind, scratch that, I got a good look at the kid, no straight man dresses that well. And anyways, I'm straight, so I can't be jealous of two guys spending time together._

Puck sighed. Now he was right back where he always was, claiming to be straight and yet having conflicting emotions about another guy. Not to mention, he'd been laying in bed with this other guy just half an hour ago, so he was pretty sure that blew the whole 'I'm completely straight' thing right out the window.

Groaning, Puck laid down in his own bed, and tried not to think about how much more comfortable it was to lay next Blaine, and how much he wanted to kiss the other boy.

* * *

><p>"Blaine," Sebastian said in a voice that betrayed how shaken up he was by everything his friend had just told him.<p>

Blaine shook his head. "Don't, please, Seb, just don't," He pleaded quietly.

"Why didn't you ever tell me? Why didn't you ever come to me?"

"I don't know," Blaine replied honestly. "I was ashamed, I guess. Afraid."

Sebastian pursed his thin lips, deep in thought. He could read Blaine pretty well, and right now he could tell that the last thing Blaine wanted was to talk about this any longer.

"All right, Killer. It's freezing out here, let's go inside."

Blaine looked up gratefully, and took Sebastian's outstretched hand, allowing the other teen to pull him up and hand him crutches.

They got in the kitchen to find Puck missing, and Mr. Schuester busy cooking.

"Need any help?" Blaine offered.

"No, I'm good. Why don't you boys go watch TV or something. Noah's laying down until dinner," He answered the unasked question.

Blaine pointed out the way to the living room and told Sebastian, "Meet you in there?" He went to the bedroom, and let himself in. "What's up?" He asked Puck, who was sulking on his bed.

Puck didn't respond, jus grunted. Blaine could feel the tension in the air, and couldn't for the life of him figure out what was causing it. This wasn't the normal awkwardness that was between them anytime after they laid together, this was something else, something foreign.

"Did I do something?" Blaine asked after a beat of silence.

Puck finally looked at him. "What? No."

"All right, 'cause you seem kinda pissed right now," Blaine pointed out.

"Not at you."

"Then what at?" Blaine asked exasperatedly.

"Nothing. It's stupid," Puck shrugged.

Blaine came the rest of the way in the room and perched on the end of Puck's bed. "Nothing about you is stupid, including your thoughts," He said tenderly.

Puck gave him a small smile, then changed the subject. "Where's your friend? Sebastian?" He tried and failed to keep the venom out of his voice.

A light went off in Blaine's head, and he realized what the weirdness was. Sebastian.

"Watching TV. Why don't you quit pouting and come join us?" Blaine offered. He was going to call Puck out on why he seemed to already not like Sebastian, but he had a feeling that would be a conversation best reserved until Sebastian wasn't in the house, one room away.

Puck looked ready to decline, but then his eyes met Blaine's and once again he found himself unable to stay angry at or deny the other boy anything. "Fine," He grumbled.

* * *

><p>Sebastian glanced up as Puck and Blaine walked in and scooted over on the couch, making room for both boys.<p>

The second Blaine sat down next to him, Sebastian draped his arm over the back of the couch, brushing Blaine's shoulders lightly with his long fingers and setting Puck's teeth on edge. Puck tried to keep his cool, even though what he wanted to do most was shove Sebastian's arm back to his side of the couch and then mess up that squirrely little face.

Blaine could feel the anger radiating off Puck in waves, and patted his knee when Sebastian was looking away. He offered the other boy a smile, but Puck just rolled his eyes, stood up, and moved to the chair.

After a few minutes of terse silence, Sebastian turned towards Puck. "So I hear you're in the glee club at McKinley? Looks like we'll competing at regionals this year."

"No. The Warblers will be losing, that's all," Puck responded.

Sebastian glanced at Blaine who just shrugged, wishing he could lock himself in the bathroom and get away from the pressure of the whole deal.

Sebastian bit back his bitchy comment for Blaine's sake and tried again. "So when do you have sectionals? Do you know who you'll be his competing against?"

"Couple weeks. And no," Puck grunted.

"Not a talkative guy, I get it," Sebastian held his hand up. The one that wasn't currently touching Puck's boy. _Wait, what? You have no claim over Blaine_, Puck reminded himself. _But you wish you did!_ Puck really was beginning to hate his brain, it kept speaking without thinking, it had a mind of its own or something.

Still annoyed, Puck picked up the remote and turned the volume up in response. Unfortunately, no amount of noise could drown out the fact that Blaine was practically sitting in Sebastian's lap. Okay, maybe that wasn't entirely true, but seriously, get a damn room. Puck finally stood up and headed into the kitchen to help Mr. Schue.

Sebastian waited until Puck was gone, craning his neck to make sure they were alone before turning to Blaine.

"What's Sir Mohawk's deal?"

Blaine squirmed under Sebastian's watchful eye and let his shoulders rise and fall, giving Sebastian a hopeless look.

"No way. No fucking way," Sebastian realized what the problem was the second he saw how uncomfortable Blaine had suddenly become.

"Shut up," Blaine muttered, refusing to meet Sebastian's eye.

"Oh, no way. Are you…have you…all right I have to know who tops? 'Cause I always saw you as the in control type who would just love to be-," Blaine cut Sebastian off with a hand over his mouth which he only removed to sock the other teen in the arm, harder than necessary in Sebastian's humble opinion.

"Do you have any shred of decency? Or filter?" Blaine hissed. "Never mind, I know the answer to that."

As annoyed, not to mention embarrassed, as Blaine was right now, it was a bit of relief to have someone saying what they thought for once without walking on eggshells around him, afraid they'd break him or upset him.

Sebastian watched the range of emotions play out over Blaine's face, and then clapped a hand over his own mouth when he realized what he'd just said mere minutes after Blaine had come clean about being repeatedly raped by two men.

"Shit, I'm sorry Blaine. I didn't mean it, y'know, like that," Sebastian stumbled over his words in his desperate attempt to back pedal.

"No, it's not that, it's fine. I mean, it's kinda nice to be treated, well, _normal_ for a change," Blaine admitted.

"Still, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking," Sebastian assured his friend.

"I know. Seriously, Seb, it's fine. No harm, no foul," Blaine replied kindly.

"All right. So tell me. What exactly _is_ going on here? Because something is. Mr. Tough As Nails Jock Boy in there is just vibrating with jealousy," Sebastian pointed out helpfully.

Blaine's shoulders drooped and he threw a cautionary glance over his shoulder, reassuring himself Puck was still out of earshot. "I don't exactly know. Nothing really. Yet." Blaine stopped, thinking for a minute before continuing. "I mean, we've kinda spent the past two nights in the same bed, _not like that_," He added with exasperation at Sebastian's suggestive eyebrow waggle."I just, I kinda have these nightmares," Blaine shrugged helplessly. "Flashbacks sometimes. Puck…he calms me. Makes me feel better. Safe. Loved."

Sebastian sat back thoughtfully, and followed Blaine's example, making sure they were still alone before asking, "So are you gay now, or…?" He left the question open ended.

"God, Seb! I don't know. Maybe? I mean, it hasn't gone beyond like, laying in each other's arms yet."

Blaine looked so lost and clueless right now that Sebastian couldn't help but chuckle at his friend's dilemma. "Only you Blaine."

"Only me what?" Blaine asked growing annoyed.

"Only you could meet someone as obviously straight as Puck and make him fall for you."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Oh, come on, Blaine. Half of Dalton is gay. Including me. And trust me when I say the majority of that half, has masturbated to you at one point or another. You're sex on a stick, sweetheart."

Puck walked in to tell Sebastian and Blaine dinner was ready just in time to hear Sebastian tell Blaine, "You're sex on a stick, sweetheart."

Gritting his teeth he cleared his throat. "Dinner," He said stormily, heading back to the kitchen.

"Shit," Blaine muttered, resting his head in his hands.

Sebastian just laughed good-naturedly. "C'mon, heartbreaker, let's go eat."


	33. Acceptance

Between Puck's barely concealed jealousy, Blaine's discomfort, Sebastian's not always appropriate sense of humor and Will's cluelessness to the whole situation, dinner was certainly an interesting affair, to say the least.

After a terse and silent meal, whose monotony was only broken up here and there by Sebastian's inappropriateness and Will's feeble attempts at getting a conversation stared, Sebastian rose from his seat. "Thank you for having me over, dinner was great. But I really should be getting home," He smiled politely, but Blaine recognized the mischievous glint in his eye. Blaine had a feeling the bed Sebastian was rushing to was not his own.

"I'll walk you out," Blaine said quickly, standing up and letting Sebastian retrieve his crutches for him.

"It was nice to meet you," Will responded to Sebastian, shooting Puck a look which Puck ignored. Will kicked Puck under the table.

"Ow!" Puck glared at his teacher. "Yeah, great, it was a real pleasure meeting you too," Puck muttered sarcastically.

"I can see that," Sebastian said with his signature smirk, as Blaine ushered him towards the door, anxious to avoid any more drama for the time being.

Blaine stepped outside with Sebastian, shutting the door firmly behind him. "Can we go talk in your car for a minute? Somewhere private?"

Sebastian raised his eyebrows and his smirk grew even wider if that was possible.

"Okay everything isn't a sexual innuendo, hound dog," Blaine rolled his eyes, trying to sound annoyed, but the small smile that played at his lips showed how much he had missed the easy way he and Sebastian has always gotten along.

"All right, but only if you promise me that you're boyfriend isn't going to come out and mess up this gorgeous mug of mine. That really would be a crime against humanity and a major loss for gay men everywhere."

Blaine laughed and shook his head, wishing he didn't have so many casts or his crutches so he could shove Sebastian off the porch. "He's not my boyfriend."

"Not yet," Sebastian commented wickedly, as the two made their way to his car.

* * *

><p>Puck was rinsing off his dish when he saw Sebastian and Blaine headed towards Sebastian's car. What? Was this the 50's? Were they going to go parking? Good luck having sex in a fuckin' Corvette when Blaine was covered in casts.<p>

Some part of his brain told him he was being irrational and jumping to conclusions, but Puck had never really been one to listen to reason when he'd made up his mind. Putting his dishes in the dishwasher, a little harder than necessary if Will's, "Hey! Easy!" Was any indication, Puck stalked back to his and Blaine's room, then paced around for a minute before coming back out.

"I'm going to go smoke a cigarette on the back deck," He told Mr. Schue, who nodded.

Puck pulled out his phone the second he was outside, and before he had time to talk himself out of it, he scrolled through his contacts list, found Kurt's name, and hit _call_.

"Hello?" Kurt answered in his prim voice.

"Hey, uh, Kurt, it's, uh, Puck," Puck stammered, wondering if it was too late to hang up and claim he pocket dialed.

"Yes, Noah, I have caller ID," Kurt said easily with one of his amused but friendly chuckles.

"Oh. Right. So, um, how are you?" Puck asked, groaning inwardly.

Kurt was able to see right through Puck's false concern for his well being. Noah had never once called him, and he sincerely doubted this was just a friendly chat. "I'm fine, Noah. Now why don't you tell me why you're really calling?" He suggested with a compassionate tone.

"That obvious, huh?" Puck sighed, and Kurt let out another small chuckle in response, but other than that waited for his classmate to continue.

"Okay, first off, I need to ask you something, and I need you to be absolutely honest with me, okay?" Puck finally said, sucking it up and figuring he might as well just treat this like a Band-Aid.

"Okay," Kurt said slowly, his curiosity most certainly piqued.

"Do you have feelings for Blaine?"

Kurt was quiet for long enough that Puck checked his phone to make sure he hadn't been hung up on.

"Yes," Kurt responded eventually in a small voice. Then without giving Puck time to ask anything else, "But I don't think I'm the one Blaine has feelings for, nor do I think I'm the one Blaine wants or needs in that way. I resigned myself to the fact that Blaine and I would never be anything more than friends a long time ago, Noah. And right now, all I want is for him to be happy. To be Blaine, again. And while I can offer him all the friendship in the world, I know I'm not the one who is supposed to help him put his life back together. I'm pretty much the king's horses and the king's men, I can't put Humpty Dumpty together again. But I think I know who can. I'm not the one he needs there when he cries or when he's scared or angry or hurt. There's someone else who I suspect he wants by him for that," Kurt's voice got stronger as he talked, as he once again proved how selfless he could be when it came to his friends and family.

"Sebastian," Puck responded irritably.

"What? Sebastian? You mean that obnoxious, twerpy little friend of his from Dalton?" Kurt wasn't even sure how Noah even knew who Sebastian was, much less why he seemed to think Blaine was in love with him.

"Yeah. That kid," Puck said with disgust in his voice.

"Noah, I've seen them together, trust me, there is nothing between them other than friendship," Kurt soothed Puck's ruffled feathers. "Noah, the one Blaine wants? The one he needs? The one who can put him together again? I meant you. And I think you need him, too. I was there last night, remember? I saw the way you two kept exchanging looks, watching each other. Blaine barely ever took his eyes off you, and every time he was looking at you he had a light in his eyes I've never seen there before. Ever. And believe me, Noah, I've spent plenty of time staring at Blaine's eyes."

"Really?" Puck asked in a small, unsure voice that was just so un-Puck that Kurt had to bite back a laugh.

"Yes. Noah, it's like he's already falling in love with you."

Both boys grew extremely quiet at Kurt's use of the word love. Puck was stuck on that word. He'd never been in love before. He didn't do love. Then again, he also supposedly wasn't gay. The more Puck repeated the word love in his mind, the more he realized that that was exactly what was happening. Puck was falling in love. With another guy.

"Noah, can I ask you for a favor?"

Puck nodded before he remembered that Kurt couldn't see him. "Sure, I guess."

"I wouldn't have told you all of that, and risked hurting Blaine even more unless I was pretty sure you felt the same way. I know you may not be ready to talk about your feelings right now, but can you at least promise me that if you don't feel that way about Blaine, than you won't lead him on? Because I swear if you hurt Blaine, I will-," Kurt was trying to think of what he'd do to Noah when Noah cut him off.

"I would _never_ hurt Blaine! I couldn't!"

Kurt didn't have to push beyond that. He could hear it in Noah's voice that he meant what he said, and he could hear the unspoken words that Noah was falling for Blaine, as well. Hard.

The boys fell into another short silence, and finally Kurt asked, "What else did you want, Noah?"

Puck drummed his fingers on the bench he sat on, cracked his knuckles, then pulled out his pack of cigarettes finally lighting up the smoke he'd supposedly come out for ten minutes ago. He lit it, inhaled, exhaled, flicked some ash off, then sucked in another lungful and asked through the smoke, "How could I fall in love with a guy? I've always been straight. No offense to you, but I've always liked women. I've never looked at a man and found him attractive."

"Not until you got to really see, Blaine," Kurt corrected softly. "Noah, I can only imagine how hard it is to suddenly realize you're falling for someone of the same sex. I've always know I was gay. So I can't even comprehend what this is like for you, or for Blaine, you've both always been so sure of your sexuality. The best I can tell you right now, is the heart wants what the heart wants. True love, real love that goes beyond mere physical attributes to the very core of a person, it knows no gender. So if you think there's even a chance that Blaine is that person for you, and that you are that person for him, if you think you've found your soul mate, then you'd be absolutely moronic and ignorant to throw that away just because he has the same genitalia as you."

Puck let out a choked laugh at the last little bit. "I look into my future and I can't see anything but Blaine," He admitted without meaning to.

"Then there's your answer, Noah," Kurt responded, with genuine care in his voice. "Don't screw it up just because you're scared, Noah, because Blaine's going to be scared enough for both of you. He's dealing with the same confusion as you right now and so much more. Just do what feels right to both of you, but go slow with him, he's going to need to know you won't hurt him. Physically or emotionally. He's going to need your reassurance and you're going to need to gain his complete trust. Make sure he knows you're serious, but don't scare him off by moving too fast, either. Just go with what your heart tells you is right, Noah. The few times I've seen you make a decision based off what was in your heart, it's never steered you wrong. You have good instincts, Noah, you're a good person. You just don't always see or acknowledge that."

"Thank you," Puck replied after minute in a thick voice that was more Noah than Puck.

"Anytime, Noah. I told you, I'm always here to talk to. Okay?"

"Thanks, Kurt. I'm going to let you go now." Which was Puck code for I am not about to cry on the phone to another guy, even if I am gay now.

"Goodbye, Noah," Kurt hung up his phone, and then allowed himself to cry the tears he'd been holding in since he'd begun to suspect something else was going on with the two boys.

* * *

><p>"Just let me say this before you even begin," Sebastian told Blaine as he flicked through his iPod, looking for background music.<p>

"Okay," Blaine agreed cautiously.

"Neither of you are as straight as you always thought, and you both just need to suck it up and realize you've fallen for a dude," Sebastian advised smugly.

"Wow, thanks for putting that so eloquently," Blaine muttered.

"You want eloquence, go find that ultra-gay clothes whore of a friend. You want straightforward and honest? Then you come to me. And you came to me, not Kurt," Sebastian's voice dripped with revulsion at Kurt's name, but he left it at that for the time being. Blaine was well aware of what the two of them thought of each other. Each thought the other gave gay men a bad name. In some weird, opposites attract type of way, Blaine suspected they may be perfect for each other.

"Look, Blaine, I'm going to put this very simply. You are falling hard for that guy, and if his jealousy is any indication, he is falling pretty fucking hard for you, as well. You're both thrown off and confused because you always thought you were straight. Well, you aren't so get over it. And you need to remember that Puck isn't your dad. He isn't Jimmy. He isn't Bruce. He's someone who seems to care a great deal for you. So let him start with a clean slate, and try not to bring your reservations about the human race into this. Give him a chance to prove himself to you, and remind yourself why you fell for him in the first place. Okay?"

Blaine nodded, and then smiled. "Next time, I'll try not to talk so much and dominate the conversation. I feel like you barely got to talk," He kidded.

"Haha," Sebastian responded with a roll of the eyes and a grin. "All right, killer. This is where I kick you out of the car because I have a date with an available man who is openly gay, and so virginal that it's just adorable."

Seriously, he and Kurt would be perfect. "All right. Thanks, Seb. For everything. I mean it."

"I know you do, B. Don't be a stranger, all right? I'll let everyone know you aren't dead, just moved, okay?"

"Please don't tell anyone where, Sebastian," Blaine's face had paled suddenly. "Please, if it gets back to my father, if he figures out where I am-."

Sebastian placed a hand on Blaine's leg, calming him. "Hey, Blaine, I would never do that, don't worry, okay, buddy?"

Blaine's breathing evened a little and the color came back to his cheeks. "Okay," he said in a small voice, embarrassed at his panic.

Sebastian knew exactly what Blaine was feeling, so with an easy smile, and a wink he tapped his watch. "Seriously, hot date. The boy is gorgeous."

"I'm going, I'm going," Blaine laughed, gratefully. "I'll text ya, promise."

"You better," Sebastian called out, putting his car in reverse, and backing out. With a quick wave, he peeled off into the night.

* * *

><p>Blaine took his pills off the counter where Mr. Schuester had left them sitting out for him, alongside a glass of water, and swallowed them, looking forward to the little bit of pain relief he was about to get. His fingers itched to go in the cabinet, and grab some more pain killers and maybe a Xanax or two, but he refused to allow himself to take more than he was prescribed, and went off to search out his newfound guardian.<p>

"Mr. Schuester?" Blaine knocked at the partially open door to his office.

Will glanced behind him, and offered Blaine a tired looking smile. "Hey, Blaine. What can I do for ya?"

"I just wanted to say thank you," Blaine said, looking down at his feet, suddenly and atypically shy.

Will knew immediately by Blaine's tone and body language that the thank you was much broader than just for dinner or allowing him to have a friend over. "It's nothing, Blaine," He responded.

"I'm going to go lie in bed and watch a movie or something than go to sleep," Blaine said after a second.

"Okay, sounds good. I think Puck's already in there, you've both had a long day, I guess, seeing as you're both going to bed and it's barely eight o'clock on a Saturday night."

Blaine grinned ruefully and shrugged. "Guess so."

"Did you take your pills on the counter?"

Blaine nodded.

"All right. I left your bedtime pills on the table next to your bed. If you need anything, ask Puck, or holler for me, or even try texting me. I already programmed my cell in your phone."

"All right. Thank you, Mr. Schuester. Really," Blaine said, turning to leave.

"Oh, hey Blaine?"

"Yeah, Mr. Schuester?"

"My name's a mouthful, so feel free to call me Mr. Schue, Mr. S, Schue, or, my preference, Will. Whichever you're comfortable with. You don't have to say 'Mr. Schuester' every time. Okay?"

Blaine laughed, and agreed. "Okay. Thanks again. Good night…Will," he tried out, feeling very weird about calling an adult by their first name. His manners were still there, after all. Seventeen years worth of etiquette being ingrained in to him didn't fall away that easily, even if they had recently been hidden beneath all the trauma and anger, forgotten about and abandoned.

"Good night, Blaine," Will smiled, feeling overjoyed for a brief second, knowing he was finally beginning to scratch the surface of who Blaine really was. Yes, he was still peeling away the mask Blaine had worn his whole life, and sometimes his guard went back up and he lost some headway, but layer by layer, slowly, yet surely, the real Blaine was beginning to shine through more and more. The boy he really was beneath that masquerade of an overly polite and well behaved kid, desperately trying to hide what happened behind closed doors when he went home. The teenage boy that Will wished Blaine had gotten the chance to be.

Will still couldn't help but get angry every time he thought of not only what that man who called himself a father had done to Blaine, but what he'd robbed him of as well. A loving mother, since his vicious ways, harsh word, powerful fists and drunken stupors drove her to suicide. The chance to be a little kid, the chance to be a teenager, his youth and his innocence. Even his virginity, albeit indirectly. He had no doubt in his mind Blaine's father knew damn well what his friend's planned on doing with his thirteen year old son when he left them alone with Blaine that weekend years ago that Blaine had painstakingly described that very afternoon.

For the countless time, Will found himself wondering how badly someone had to hate themselves before they got to the point where they could bring so much pain and hatred to a defenseless and innocent child. He wondered how Mr. Anderson, and Jimmy and Bruce slept at nights. How they lived with themselves. Again, he couldn't even begin to wrap his head around the idea that three grown men could bring themselves to do that to not only another human being, but a child. In Mr. Anderson's case, _his_ child, no less. He felt like he had that thought about a thousand times a day since discovering Blaine on the side of the road that fateful night that was barely over a month ago now, but certainly felt like light-years ago. He felt like his brain was just on some twisted repeat, replaying the same angry questions, the same sad feelings and heartfelt sympathy, the same anger. Every time he looked at Blaine, limping around the house on crutches, trying his best to do everything with no help, since he wasn't used to having help, stumbling over something, growing frustrated because a simple task couldn't be completed due to his current handicaps, Will felt his heart break all over again for the bright and charming teen left in his care. Every time he caught Blaine looking longingly at his right hand, knowing he would never be able to play guitar or write a song with it again, the crack in his heart for Blaine deepened.

* * *

><p>Blaine went in the bathroom, doing his best to wash up and spending a little bit more time than was acceptable for a guy about to go to bed in front of the mirror, making sure he looked okay. He didn't. What the hell had he been thinking? Kurt and Sebastian must suck at reading people, because there was no way Puck would look at him and see anything resembling attractive. His face, the one thing about him that used to be completely scar free was now covered in thin, jagged scars from the mirror breaking on his face. He had a two inch long, thick white scar underneath his one eye from the broken mirror, as well. His nose was bent at an odd angle from being broken, and then re-broken. He still had faint bruises on his eyes from being punched repeatedly. They had faded to an ugly green-yellow now that turned his stomach to look at; he could only imagine how much they must repulse Puck. His jaw had the same fading, disgusting bruises, two of his back teeth had been broken, and his mouth drooped just a little on his left side from all the hits it had received.<p>

And that was just his face. He couldn't bring himself to inspect any other part of his body after that. "I'm hideous," Blaine said quietly to himself, his voice catching.

And if the physical evidence wasn't enough, there was always the fact that he'd been ruined and defiled in other ways to. No matter how real his feelings for Puck were beginning to seem, the thought of ever sleeping with anyone again made Blaine's stomach churn and bile rise in his throat. Not that Puck would want him anyway, not after they'd ruined him. Blaine's thoughts began a dangerous out of control downward spiral and he found himself squeezing his eyes shut, trying to block the images that were appearing in his head and the voices he could hear cursing him out and degrading him, laughing with a sadistic brutality at him.

The names he'd been called his whole life, the names he'd begun to believe were true after hearing repeated so many times started flickering through his head like someone hit the scan button on the radio to his nightmares. Stupid. Lazy. Worthless. Piece of shit. Ugly. Waste of space. Brat. Bastard. Asshole. Pussy. Wimp. Whore. Slut. Cunt. Useless. Insignificant. A small whimper forced it's way out of Blaine's mouth.

Blaine realized he must have been in there longer than he thought because a rapping at the door startled him so much he dropped his toothbrush in the toilet.

"Hey man, you okay? You've been in there for like an hour and a half," Puck called through the locked bathroom door.

"I'm fine," Blaine replied in a robotic voice, opening the door to reveal Puck dressed in a pair of worn sweat pants and nothing else.

Puck took one look at Blaine and his face became etched with concern. "What's going on? You look like you're about to cry," He said, but his voice wasn't snarky. If anything it was gentle and kind, tinged with worry.

Blaine shook his head vehemently. "Nothing, I just dropped by toothbrush in the commode."

Puck glanced down and saw a dark blue toothbrush floating in the toilet, but somehow he knew that that wasn't it. The look in Blaine's eyes hinted that it was something far deeper than a silly mistake.

Plucking the toothbrush out, Puck dropped it in the trashcan, and washed his hands off in the sink before grabbing a new one from the cabinet which he placed on the sink near Blaine. "Here."

"Thanks," Blaine mumbled, refusing to make eye contact.

"Blaine, that's not it. Tell me what's really going on," Puck said.

Blaine shrugged and gave an incoherent response.

"Blaine, please," Puck pleaded, beginning to grow worried. Blaine had that faraway look in his eyes, the one that Puck knew from experience meant he wasn't entirely in the current situation.

Blaine closed his eyes, and his body trembled ever so slightly and he began to look unsteady on his feet. "Blaine," Puck placed a hand on the other boy's arm, and used his free hand to close the lid on the toilet, guiding Blaine to sit down before he fell over.

Puck waited a minute to see if Blaine would say anything, and then crouched down in front of him, putting one hand on Blaine's knee and using his other to tenderly cup underneath Blaine's chin, gently tugging his head up until he was staring into the other boy's eyes.

"Talk to me Blaine. Please. You're freaking me out."

Apparently that wasn't the right choice of words because a tear leaked out of the corner of Blaine's eye and he whispered, "Sorry. I know I'm a freak."

"What? Blaine, no you're not," Puck said with conviction. "That's not what I meant, honey." _Honey, where the hell did that come from?_

Blaine was still shaking, but his eyes looked a little less glazed, a little more focused, so Puck took the opportunity to wet a washcloth with cold water, and start gingerly wiping at Blaine's face, trying to bring him completely back to reality with a shock of cold water on his worrisomely warm face.

"Blaine, I need you here with me, okay? I don't want to lose you right now," Puck had meant that he needed Blaine to not retreat into himself and get lost in a flashback, but it came out sounding like he meant for life. And he was beginning to realize how true the unintended meaning really was.

He placed the washcloth next to them on the sink and brushed a stray curl out of Blaine's brow, his eyes wildly searching Blaine's for a hint of the person he knew was buried deep in there, just a little lost in a maze, trying to figure out what was real and what wasn't.

Blaine gave a violent shudder, and then his body relaxed from the rigid tremble it had been stuck in, like a phone on vibrate, and his memories wouldn't quit calling him. His eyes swept the room, panic stricken until they locked with Puck's and all the terror slowly dulled from them. With a final flash and squeeze of his eyes, Blaine opened them and found himself sitting on the toilet, with Puck in front of him, one hand brushing at his tangled hair, and the other rubbing his good knee with the pad of his thumb in slow, lazy yet deliberate circles.

"Puck?" Blaine sounded lost and confused, unaware of how he came to be there, the last thing he remembered was brushing his teeth at the sink.

"I'm right here Blaine, I'm not going anywhere. Promise," Puck assured him, taking one of Blaine's hands in his own.

They stayed like that for a long time; Blaine sitting in front of Puck, still bewildered but trying desperately to hide it, and Puck playing with Blaine's hair and running his fingertips lightly over Blaine's palm; until Puck's knees started to protest and his legs started to cramp up.

Fully aware of what he was doing, with no excuses to fight about with his mind later on, Puck stood up and quickly brushed his lips across Blaine's forehead. "You scared the hell outta me, Blaine," He murmured.

"Sorry," Blaine said quickly, feeling like a burden, like a crybaby.

"For what? You have nothing to apologize for. Quit saying you're sorry all the time," Puck said with a small smile, handing Blaine the new toothbrush which he'd put toothpaste on. "You were in the middle of brushing your teeth, I think," He explained when Blaine gave him a quizzical look.

"Oh." He took the toothbrush, and with Puck's help stood back up at the sink, taking his time, slowly and deliberately brushing his teeth until Puck was forced to place a hand on his arm and tell him he thought they were clean enough for now.

Blaine looked in the mirror and started to remember a little bit about what had brought on the episode when he took in his reflection again. His hair really needed washed, but he couldn't do it himself with one hand in a cast. He also really needed a shower, but that was pretty much out of the question too.

Before he had time to chicken out, he made eye contact with Puck in the mirror and asked in a timid voice, "Could you help me wash my hair in the sink? And maybe rinse off some of me with a washcloth or something? Help me get…ah, clean? Ish?" He added the 'ish' on as an afterthought since he wouldn't be truly clean until all the casts came off and he could scrub in the shower for five or six hours.

"Yeah, I was going to say something about your stench, man. I'm only going to continuing sleeping next to you in a cramped bed if you do something about it," Puck attempted a joke, and Blaine awarded him with a small, but genuine smile that made Puck's heart beat just a little bit faster.

"Okay," Puck took charge as he grabbed the shampoo and conditioner from the shower. "How do you want to do this? Can you lean over and put your head in the sink without hurting…well…anything?"

"I think," Blaine said, looking determined. It took a couple minutes and every time Blaine drew in a sharp breath at the pain from the wound on his back as he bent at unnatural angles, Puck winced a little bit, too. Which struck Blaine as odd, since Puck never struck him as a very empathetic person, and by the time Puck was gently scooping the water back over all of his hair Blaine's heart beat matched Puck's, hammer for hammer.

Puck began to wash his hair, cautious of the various scrapes, bruises, cuts and bumps littered over his head. Blaine made a tiny whimper in the back of his throat when the shampoo firs touched some of the raw, open wounds and Puck had to force himself to keep going. He wanted to stop, he hated knowing he was the cause of Blaine's pain, no matter how indirectly or unintentional it may have been.

After shampooing the other boy's hair until it was full of suds Puck turned the water back on, making sure it was warm but not hot, and then guided Blaine's head closer towards the flow. He took his time, gently washing the offending shampoo away from the sores, getting all of the residue out, and lightly massaging Blaine's scalp. Puck wasn't sure if he imagined it or not when he heard a soft, small, pleasurable moan come from the other boy whenever his thumb swept over his earlobe. But he didn't think he was and he moved back a little bit, trying to angle his pelvic area away from Blaine so Blaine wouldn't feel that something as simple as an accidental moan had made him instantly become half hard. _Down, boy_, He told Little Puck in his mind. _That won't help keep Blaine from freaking out again._ He also made Little Puck a silent promise that he would take care of him during his morning shower. Which may have to be a cold one. Ice cold.

After taking his time Puck finally began to comb the conditioner through Blaine's wet curls with his fingers. Experimentally he 'mistakenly' brushed his thumb over the bottom of Blaine's earlobe again and now he knew he hadn't imagined it. Blaine definitely made a small, almost imperceptible, and definitely involuntary noise in the back of his throat. That caused Little Puck to start to come to attention again, and Big Puck had to talk him back down again.

When his hair was fully conditioned and rinsed, Puck took a towel, and wrapped it around Blaine's head, helping him to stand up straight and then sit on the side of the bathtub. Blaine was shivering ever so slightly again, but Puck had a pretty good idea that this time it had nothing to do with flashbacks and more to do with arousal. Or he was cold from his hair being wet. But Puck hoped and decided it was arousal, especially when goose bumps broke out on Blaine's arms as Puck jagged fingernails contacted with the sensitive skin at the base of Blaine's throat as Puck messed with the towel and Blaine's hair.

Both boys had been eerily silent this whole time, lost deep in their own thoughts, and both boys also realized that something was changing between them in that small bathroom. They were getting dangerously close to crossing lines that could never be uncrossed, but neither one of them planned on doing anything to stop it. Neither one of them wanted to do anything to stop it.

As carefully as he could, Puck towel dried Blaine's hair, throwing the damp towel in the hamper when he was done with it. He couldn't suppress a small, almost loving grin at how Blaine looked with his hair damp. It stuck up in wild, uncontrollable curls, and Puck wondered why Blaine had ever felt the need to gel and slick his hair, when it looked so much better with the natural curls. Especially now that he hadn't been able to get a haircut in so long. It was longer than Puck had ever seen it, and a few stray locks were plastered to his forehead, twisting back and forth and every which way, while some of the hair on top was already beginning to dry and give him the most adorable untamed curly haired look Puck had ever seen on another guy.

"What?" Blaine asked defensively.

"Nothing. I'm throwing out all of your hair gel, though," He kidded.

Blaine placed a self-conscious hand to his hair, and frowned at Puck, whose grin jus grew in response.

"It looks better like this. You don't need all that product in it, this way fits the 'New Blaine' better, anyway," Puck assured Blaine that he had meant it in a positive way.

"The 'New Blaine'?" Blaine asked, slightly perplexed.

"Yeah. The one who's free from those assholes and their abuse, free to be whoever the hell he wants to be without worrying about what others think. Wild and carefree, just like your curls."

Blaine was always amazed at how randomly deep and insightful Puck truly could be sometimes. He was certain that a lot of Puck's stupid jock act was just that. An act. A lie, so that people wouldn't realize how smart Puck really was and so they wouldn't expect too much of him. Just another way for Puck to fit in at school and on the football team, trying to fly under the radar and only allow a select few to see how extraordinary and intelligent he truly was. Blaine felt honored that he was one of those few people who got to see the real Noah Puckerman, because he knew there weren't that many.

While Blaine had been thinking, Puck had taken a comb and raked through all of Blaine's tangles, most of which immediately coiled right back, of course. Puck had an irresistible urge to pull one of his curls straight and let it bounce back while making a 'Boing!' noise, but he sincerely doubted Blaine would appreciate that, so he forced the thought out of his head.

"So, how do we want to do…um…the body washing?" Puck stumbled over his words, his voice catching as he thought about a naked Blaine. _Holy Fuck, Little P, knock it off!_

"Uhhh," Blaine stalled, suddenly feeling extremely self aware as he realized he would have to strip down at least most of the way, and allow Puck to wash him off with a cloth. He took a deep, calming breath and reminded himself that this was Puck, he wasn't going to hurt him, this wasn't a sexual situation, and he really had no other choice since he was beginning to think he could smell himself.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Blaine pointed to a washcloth, which Puck began to get wet, and Blaine stripped down to the maroon boxer briefs he was wearing under his own sweatpants, and also removed his t-shirt and wife beater, so that when Puck turned back around he was staring at the one sight in the world that could always take his breath away.

"Should," Puck's voice hitched and he covered it with a fake cough, starting again. "Should I soap up the washcloth a little, and then use a separate wet one to wipe suds off, or…" He trailed off, pretty much okay with any idea that involved touching Blaine's bare skin.

"Yeah, I guess."

"All right, why don't you step in the shower then, just so we don't make a mess." _Fuck, fuck, fuck think of anything but wet, soapy Blaine. Anything…but…wet…soapy…Blaine…_ Well that wasn't helping. Puck suddenly had an ingenious idea. "Wait! I should go get some plastic bags and rubber bands to wrap all your casts in for added security."

Without giving Blaine a chance to agree or disagree, Puck left the bathroom, not slowing down until he was in the kitchen, where he threw a look to make sure Mr. Schue wasn't around before quickly palming himself through his sweats. _Jesus_, Puck practically whimpered to himself. He was pretty sure he could get himself off in about two pumps right now if he wanted to.

He gave himself a break from almost naked Blaine. (_Naked, wet, soapy Blaine.)_ And started searching out Mr. Schue's plastic bags and rubber bands. By the time he had found and gathered all the supplies, he'd managed to lose most of his hardness and hoped it was safe to return to Blaine. (Naked, wet, soapy Blaine.)_ So!_ _Not! Helping!_

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><p><em>AN: I know, I know, I'm sorry! Cruel pace to leave it at, and originally it wasn't supposed to end here, but this chapter is getting long and there's still a bit more to go here, and this just seemed like the perfect place to stop it. Especially because it is currently 5:09 AM here in Pittsburgh, and I need to go to bed so my I can get up in an hour and a half and get the demon spawn ready for school and shipped off on a bus. I should have the chapter 34 up by nine or ten PM tonight with any luck, though. But in the meantime, please feel free to drop me a review or PM and let me know what you thought of this chapter!_


	34. Batman

_A/N: So for those of you who enjoy the whole Puck/Blaine pairing, I have two wonderful recommendations for you story wise. The first is __**When Puck Met Blaine**__ by __**Vita Amore Rose**__ and the second is __**To You I Belong**__ by __**Frelise**__. If you haven't read these ye I urge you o go give them a read, I'm kinda in love with both of them. Anyways, enjoy 34, I think you will all be pleased with the end!_

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><p>Puck walked back into the bathroom to find Blaine sitting down on the edge of the tub, idly scratching at the back of his neck. Blaine started to stand, but Puck shook his head. "Stay sitting a second, it'll be easier to wrap that cast on your leg."<p>

He shrugged, and did what Puck told him. Puck squatted down, wrapping the cast in plastic bags, tucking it into the top, then wrapping another one and putting a rubber band around for double assurance. He did the same to the hand and wrist cast, and then had Blaine turn around so he could start taking the bandages off his back. He grimaced as he took it off, revealing for the first time the jagged wound and stitches on his back, wondering if it had looked that bad the last time he'd seen it. He knew it had, but every time he saw one of Blaine's injuries he was struck again with a sense of wrong, mixed in with anger and sympathy.

"Is it ok to get all these stitches wet, do you know?" He asked, gesturing with one hand to the various stitches covering his chest, arms, and legs and assuming the one on the back as well.

"Yeah, the Doctor said they're waterproof now, and will dissolve on their own accord, anyway," Blaine told him.

"All right then, wanna try standing up, or do you want to stay sitting while I do up top?

"How about if I stay sitting until I absolutely have to stand. I'd like to do the whole balance act for as minimal a time as possible."

"Okay," Puck agreed, grabbing the wet washcloth, and soaping it up. "This may sting," he warned as an afterthought before he started.

"Pain is one thing I'm really not concerned about," Blaine said with remorseful half smile.

Puck winced internally at that, hating that Blaine was so accustomed to physical pain, hating even more that he was the one who was about o bring him more pain, even if it would be minor compared to what he was used to receiving.

"Okay," Puck murmured softly. His voice had a sweetness to it that Blaine was becoming familiar with, and that made his heart flutter since he had a feeling he was the only person who had the privilege of hearing Puck use that tone on a daily basis.

Puck began slowly wiping in a downward figure eight pattern, starting at the top of Blaine's neck where his hairline ended, and working all the way down to his lower back, right above the dark red material of his boxer briefs.

Blaine shivered slightly, a combination of the chill of wet skin in the winter and the feeling of Pucks fingers as they made contact with his bare skin. He gently cleansed off Blaine's shoulders, and under his arms, then down his sides as well before climbing in the tub to start the process again on his chest. Blaine could feel the soapy water from the washcloth beginning to soak the top of his boxer briefs, and focused on that feeling, trying his best to ignore the fact that Puck was so close to him. He felt exposed, sitting there with barely any clothes on, and helpless, as well. He could sense the panic rising up in him on the inside as Puck's hand dipped lower and lower as he wiped. He tried to talk himself out of it, but eventually placed his hand on Puck's, taking the washcloth. "I can finish this part, if you want to see about my right arm."

Puck looked up, surprised, and all it took was one look in Blaine's eyes for him to realize how close Blaine was to losing it. "Okay," He responded kindly, soaping up another washcloth which he handed to Blaine. He began the same, gentle motions on Blaine's arms, and refused to think about the bare chest in front of him, or how badly he wanted to kiss the other boy and reassure him that he would never hurt him, never take advantage of him.

They worked in complete silence, but it was an easy, comfortable silence, aside from the sexual tension radiating between them. Blaine stood when needed, then sat back down and helped Puck rinse the soap off his body. He stood up a final time, so Puck could get the soap from the back of his legs, and then gratefully took the dry towel Puck held out to him.

He tried to wrap it around his shoulders, but realized he couldn't bend that way, or reach without causing extreme pain to his shoulder, and after a couple minutes of getting nowhere, he turned to Puck with a vulnerable look on his face.

Puck was busy wiping the water from the floor outside the tub when he sensed Blaine's need, and looked up. If it hadn't been so heartbreaking, he might have laughed at the helpless look on Blaine's face. But he didn't, because he knew Blaine would take it the wrong way. It was nice to be needed though, even if he could tell that Blaine despised that he needed someone to help him with the most mundane of tasks.

He stood up, and draped the towel over Blaine's shoulders, which Blaine immediately clutched in front of him, shivering even harder now.

"I'm going to go get you some dry boxers and clean clothes, I can dry the bathroom after you change," Puck told Blaine when he noticed how cold the other boy looked.

Blaine nodded gratefully, hobbling over to the toilet and sitting back down to wait.

Puck went in the room and opened up Blaine's top drawer. He felt a bit like a pervert rifling through Blaine's underwear drawer, but that didn't stop him from sneaking a peek and noting that Blaine seemed to prefer boxer briefs, since he only had a couple pairs of regular boxers and no briefs at all. He couldn't help but laugh to himself when he found a pair of black boxer briefs that said _Batman_ in yellow all around the waistband, and had the _Batman_ symbol on the crotch. Grinning, he chose those, glad they'd been on top so Blaine wouldn't know he'd decided to look through his underwear collection. Out of the corner of his eye he spied a yellow wife beater and pulled it out, pleased and amused to find it was a matching _Batman_ undershirt. Realizing he'd probably been gone longer than he should have and he hurriedly grabbed a black thermal shirt from the second drawer down, and then yanked open the third drawer. Puck laughed out loud when staring up at him from the top of the pile of sweats was a pair of black flannel pajama pants with the _Batman_ symbol all over them.

Opening up the door to the bathroom, he handed the pile of clothes to Blaine, and with a cheeky grin, couldn't help but asking, "So was there a sale or do you just really like Batman?"

Blaine looked confused as he took the clothes, until he saw the boxer briefs, wife beater and pants.

"Shut up," He muttered. "I like Batman. He's better than Spiderman," Blaine added.

"What? What's wrong with Spiderman? Spiderman's bad ass!" Puck argued.

"Yeah, Spiderman's great. In a city. I'd like to see him take on someone like Batman in the middle of a field in Kansas. What would he do, swing around the same damn building calling for Batman to come closer? Spiderman sucks," Blaine declared.

Puck opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. Blaine had a point. "Well what about Superman? You have to like Superman."

"Superman's okay, I guess. But last time I checked, he didn't have the Batmobile. Or a butler."

Puck laughed. "Touché," he said shaking his head. "Holler when you're done changing and I'll finish cleaning the bathroom before we got to bed."

Blaine waited until Puck was gone and then dropped his head in his hands. _Oh my God, Puck must think I'm the biggest dork. I not only have Batman Pajama pants, I have matching underwear. And he knows it._ He should have hidden them on the bottom. In the same place all of his other embarrassing underwear was. Including smiley face boxers, Smurfs boxers, boxer briefs with little pirates all over them and even a pair of bright pink boxer briefs that stated 'Real Men Where Pink' along the waistband.

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><p>After changing, Blaine went into their room while Puck finished cleaning. He sat down on his bed, and saw the pills Mr. Schuester had left out for him. <em>No, Will. He wants you to call him Will. I wonder if Puck is supposed to call him Will while were all home and Mr. Schue while they're at school? <em>Blaine was lost in thought when Puck entered, and he practically jumped out of his skin when Puck closed and locked the door behind him.

"Someone's jumpy," Puck commented lightly.

Blaine gave a sheepish smile and shrugged.

Puck walked over to the TV, looked through a pile of Blu-Rays he'd brought from home, and then triumphantly held up a case for Blaine's inspection when he found what he wanted. "It's only, like, ten o'clock. Want to watch this together before we go to sleep?"

Blaine squinted and laughed when he saw that Puck was holding out _The Dark Knight_. "Sure," He readily agreed, even though he was trying to figure out if Puck was making fun of him or not.

Puck put the disc in and grabbed the remote, then glanced back and forth between the two beds for a second. Blaine had already lain down in his own bed, and Puck wasn't sure if he should join him or go to his own bed. Yes, they'd spent the past two nights sleeping together, but they'd gone to bed in their own beds first, Puck hadn't joined Blaine until he'd started having his flashbacks. Puck didn't want to assume anything or make Blaine uncomfortable, but the past two nights had been the best nights of sleep he'd ever gotten, and he was craving the feeling of Blaine in his arms. It intoxicated him to breathe in the scent of the other boy. The mixture of the Davidoff Cool Water cologne he wore, his cinnamon toothpaste, the coffee he drank by the gallon and then something he couldn't quite place, a scent that was just, purely…Blaine. He was beginning to think he was addicted to the other boy.

Blaine watched Puck looking at the beds with a slightly anxious, indecisive gaze as he tried to make up his mind. Blaine considered staying quiet, letting Puck come to his own decision, but he was afraid to sleep alone. Afraid he'd get stuck in those horrible flashbacks or some horrid nightmare. Mind made up, Blaine scooted over in his bed, looking up at Puck and in that shy voice he sometimes used when it was just the two of him he asked, "Will you lay with me to watch the movie? I just, I sleep so much better next to you."

It was a little mumbled and he kept his eyes cast downward, almost as if he was afraid Puck would say no. Puck didn't, of course. He smiled and flicked the light switch, taking his rightful place next to Blaine. They stared out just lying next to each other, almost stiffly, both of them wanting to lay in the other's arms, but neither wanting to make the first move, afraid of rejection, afraid of what it might mean. Every other night they'd had an excuse, it had been the middle of the night, Blaine had been having an episode, Puck had to calm him. But tonight, right now, while they watched a movie, if they held one another there'd be no excuse. There'd be no turning back. That would be that.

Puck thought everything over in his head; was he ready to take this step, was he ready to admit to himself and most likely ultimately the world, that he was gay? Was he ready to handle not only his first real relationship, but a relationship with another guy? Could he handle being in a relationship with Blaine and everything that it would entail? Could he be the person Blaine needed him to be, could he be there for Blaine like Blaine would need him to be, could he be patient with Blaine, could he take his time and do things right? A million different questions were flying through his mind. He realized that all those question held the same answer, and that the only question that really even mattered was whether he was falling in love with Blaine or not. When he silently said yes to himself, when he did as Kurt suggested and listened to his heart, what it was telling him to do, he knew that his life had just drastically changed. That _he_ had just drastically changed.

He still didn't know what exactly he was, gay, straight or bi; but he did know that without a doubt he was already halfway in love with the fragile, yet beautiful boy next to him. He'd never been one for labels anyway, so with a burst of self-confidence he admitted to himself that it didn't really matter what his sexual orientation was. It all came down to one thing. Only one thing mattered in the end. Noah Puckerman had found the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life loving, taking care of and protecting.

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><p>Blaine turned to Puck to ask him a question, only to find Puck looking at him with such an intensity in his eyes that he immediately forgot what he'd been about to say.<p>

Puck grabbed the remote from where it lay between their bodies and clicked off the TV. He was struck again by how beautiful the boy next to him looked, his olive skin bathed in soft moonlight, his golden eyes looking back at Puck, and his mouth with those perfect lips that Puck couldn't stop thinking about. About what they'd feel like on his own lips.

"Puck?" Blaine asked quietly, his voice wavering slightly.

Puck turned on his side so he was facing Blaine, and waited until Blaine mirrored his movements to respond. "I need to ask you a question and I need you to answer me honestly," Puck told Blaine in a voice thick with emotion.

"Okay. I promise," Blaine said after a beat of silence. He could sense that whatever Puck was about to ask him was serious, so he waited patiently for Puck to ask what it was he needed to ask.

Puck was quiet for a moment, knowing that if he was to have any hope of coming clean with Blaine about how he was feeling these past couple of days then he had to first and foremost make sure Blaine wasn't close to breaking down again. "How are you? Truthfully, Blaine. How are you feeling? How are you doing? And you know I don't mean just physically," He added quickly, making sure the other boy didn't have a valid out from his earlier promise.

Blaine looked surprised, clearly taken aback by the question, and also feeling a little bit embarrassed because he'd though Puck's question was going to have something to do with them and whatever it was that was obviously happening between them. At least on his side. He now found himself doubting if Puck was having similar thoughts and feelings.

Blaine was also, oddly touched by the question, even if he was a little disappointed as well. Since this had first come out in the open, since Will and Puck and Santana had rescued him that night, no one had bothered to actually ask him how he was. How he was doing, how he was really feeling. Sure the doctors had asked, inquiring about his injuries, but it was their job. Sure his psychologist had asked, but again, that was someone who was paid to ask, paid to care.

Blaine bit his bottom his lip, resisting the urge to shrug and mumble, his pride advising him to blow the question off with a half hearted lie about how he was fine. But his heart wanted the opposite. So did his sanity. He needed to talk to someone, to be honest with someone. He needed someone to understand how hard it was just to wake up each day, how much of a tribulation it was just to keep from breaking down and screaming or crying or both. How often he opened up his wallet and pulled out the sharp silver razorblade, staring at it transfixed for God only knows how long. How he wasn't positive that he would stop with just a few superficial slices like normal if he allowed himself to give in to the temptation. Blaine was scared to death to be alone anymore, because he was so afraid he wasn't strong enough to go on living. He was terrified to be alone with his thoughts and that razor.

He still craved that cool, hard kiss of steel on his wrists, the one that somehow made him feel better. He couldn't understand his own logic and he didn't want to, honestly. All he knew was that he needed the pain, needed to bring it upon himself for once instead of allowing everyone else to cause him pain. He felt so out of control these days, more so than before when he'd been living with his dad. He still had to choke down every bite and force himself not to puke it up. Whenever he was alone in the kitchen, he opened up the cabinet and just stared, mesmerized by the rows of pill bottles, hungering after the numbness and false sense of happiness and security he knew a handful of them could bring him.

"Blaine?" Puck asked after he got no response for over five minutes. Even in the faint light from the sliver of a moon outside Puck could see the anguish clear as day on Blaine's face. And that was why he'd been so afraid to ask Blaine how he was, why it had been days now and he hadn't bothered to really find out how Blaine was doing. Because he was certain the answer would break his heart, he was positive that Blaine wasn't doing as well as he was pretending he was. But Puck couldn't kid himself any longer. It wasn't fair to Blaine. If Puck could see how hard Blaine was struggling, then it wouldn't be right of him to ignore it just because he was afraid to see Blaine regress. And Puck couldn't admit his feelings out loud to Blaine unless he thought Blaine could handle them. And I was getting harder and harder not to blurt out his feeling o Blaine, and even harder than that not to grab the other boy and kiss him passionately like he so badly wanted to.

Blaine started to turn away from Puck, trying to hide his face, sick of crying in front of the other teen, sick of looking so damn weak all the time. He just wanted to be normal and happy. But he couldn't, no matter how hard he tried to pretend otherwise. Pretending was growing old, he'd been doing it in one form or another his entire life.

"No, Blaine," Puck said forcefully but not cruelly. "Don't turn away from me, don't hide from me. Please." Puck pleaded, grabbing the other boy's head in his hands, refusing to let Blaine conceal himself. "Talk to me. It may help. I want to help you, Blaine. I want to be here for you. But you have to talk to me, you have to quit this act. I know you're not okay, Blaine. I can see right through you."

Blaine slowly pried open his eyes which he'd squeezed shut when Puck had forced him to continue facing him. He searched he dark room with his eyes, as if he would be able to find the words to express his agony, his despair, his terror, written on the walls in glow in dark ink. Blaine wanted to come clean to Puck, he wanted to let it all out, he needed to, but he didn't know where to begin.

Puck left one hand on Blaine's face, gently cupping his cheek, and with the other he took Blaine's left hand and placed it on Blaine's chest, pressing it towards his heart. "Feel that? That's your heartbeat. That means you're still alive, sill fighting. No matter how hard it's been, how hopeless it feels, you're still alive, Blaine. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for. You're an amazing person and you have so much to offer this world. But you can't start to heal unless you acknowledge the wounds. If you ignore them, act like they aren't there and they don't exist, they will only get worse. They will get infected and then cause you that much more pain. So if you want to heal your wounds, you first need to clean them out. Cleanse your soul. Everything you've been keeping in, all those thoughts running through your head? Just let them all out. Someone pretty smart once told me they were sick of walking around hiding all their secrets, all their pain. They said it helped to talk about it out loud. And you know what? They were right." Puck threw Blaine's own words back in his face, desperate to get the other boy to open up.

Puck gave Blaine a few minutes to think over his speech, using his hand that was on Blaine's face to tenderly wipe away the tears that were slowly leaking out of the corners of Blaine's eyes.

Blaine took a deep, ragged breath and a steely conviction came over his face. His body began to relax into Puck's and after a couple of false starts and some fumbling he finally got his wits about him, and let it all pour out. Every little thing he'd been thinking since waking up in the hospital the first time came flowing out of his mouth. Once he began to speak he couldn't stop. He tripped over his words, trying to get everything out, he wasn't even sure he was making sense half the time, but he kept on talking, trying to explain everything to Puck. All of his fears, even the ones he knew were completely irrational, all of the thoughts that had been weighing on his mind. Every bit of suffering he'd experienced the past few weeks, every bit of pain, all of his worry and distress, all of his struggles.

Puck kept quiet the whole time, listening carefully, taking it all in, attempting to absorb as much as Blaine's pain as he could, vowing silently to help Blaine carry the weight of all his despair. Swearing to himself that he would walk the path of recovery with Blaine every step of the way. Carrying him when needed, holding his hand when needed and promising himself Blaine would never feel so alone and out of control and lost again. When Blaine finally grew quiet again, after almost an hour of bearing open his heart and soul for Puck to see, with his eyes dry, having no tears left to cry and no energy with which to cry them, Puck let go of his hand, taking Blaine's face back in both hands again, looking so deep into his eyes that Blaine felt completely naked and laid open for the boy next to him to see.

Puck knew he should respond to a lot of what Blaine said, but he knew he needed more than a minute o gather all of his thoughts after all of the confessions Blaine had just made. Puck made up his mind that he and Blaine could talk more in the morning, after a good night's sleep. First off, because Blaine looked mentally exhausted right then, like he couldn't handle much else for the time being, and secondly because there was something else that Puck waned to do, something that had been building up for days now, something that was pressing so heavily at his mind he knew he couldn't hold it in any longer. Something he needed to do.

Puck's breathing became shallow, and he softly warned Blaine, "I'm going to kiss you now." He waited a minute, giving Blaine a chance to decline, giving Blaine a chance to back out of the situation if he didn't want it or wasn't ready for it.

But Blaine didn't. His eyes grew wide, his heart began to hammer in sync with Puck's rapid heartbeat, and he licked his lips nervously. Blaine's breathing became labored, but he still didn't tell the other boy no.

Puck leaned towards Blaine slowly, giving him one final chance at an outing, glad when Blaine didn't take it. When his face was as close to Blaine's as it possibly could be without them actually kissing, Puck said, "This is your last chance to tell me not to kiss you."

Blaine was still silent, and Puck took that as invitation, dropping one hand down to Blaine's back, pulling their bodies tight together, as close as their faces, and then gently pressing his lips to the other boy's.


	35. Home

_A/N: Okay, first things first: I know this chapter is much shorter than y'all have grown accustomed to recently, but this is on purpose. Obviously, what happens now is a major turning point in the story, it has been leading up for several agonizing and tension-ridden chapters now. I refuse to take away from this by adding extra drabble to it, that belongs in another chapter, just so that the chapter is longer. So yes, extremely short chapter. However, **not** filler! Just something that deserves its own chapter with nothing else clogging it up or taking away from the enormity of it._

_Also - My 'T' key is in major suckage mode, and insists on being pounded to work, so I apologize for any grammatical errors I missed in my revisions and edits as far as the 't' is concerned. But hey, as a good friend on here once told me "T" is highly overrated, anyway! Right? Right._

_And last, but certainly not least, there are four people with who's help this chapter would never have been what it was, they let me send them rough drafts, and helped me with edits and phrasing, and basically helped write this chapter. So: Loki Firefox, Loki Firefox's brother, Vita Amore Rose, and Frelise: __**Thank you, thank you, thank you!**__ And I hope you're as happy as I am with the final version of "The Kiss" as I am! =)_

_(Oh, and can I just add, that the number of times I watched Blaine's performance of Fighter is absolutely obscene? I know I'm not alone here…)_

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><p>The moment Puck's lips touched Blaine's, all his fears, and his worries and his questions flew out the window. Kissing was nothing more than foreplay for Puck, a way to get into someone's pants. This time, it was different. Blaine's lips were different, and in a good way. Puck was used to smooth lips and Blaine's were rough. Puck was used to aggressive kissing; now he wanted to go gentle, hesitant. It was the most sensual thing he'd ever experienced.<p>

He knew this was what he wanted to do the rest of his life; this is who he wanted to spend it with.

Puck ran his tongue over Blaine's lower lip, and could feel the indents from various scars. He gently massaged them with the tip of his tongue, before using it to tease Blaine's lips, trying to sway the other boy to open his mouth. Tentatively, Blaine's lips parted. Puck ran his tongue over the top of Blaine's teeth, before searching out Blaine's tongue with his own. This tender style of kissing was unknown territory for Puck but there was comfort here. It was sweet and loving. He wanted it to last forever, for the first time he had no urge to push it beyond a kiss. The desire was there, the stir in his groins certainly suggested it, but Puck found himself not wanting to push. The time wasn't right. Puck was content to simply familiarize himself with every centimeter of the other boy's mouth. The bumps on his tongue, the taste of cinnamon and coffee that matched his scent so perfectly, the cautious way that Blaine's tongue tangled with his own.

Blaine felt like an idiot, just laying there unresponsive as Puck kissed him, but it was the most amazing thing he'd ever felt in his life. His heart was hammering in his chest so hard he just knew Puck could hear it. Blaine had never kissed anyone before, which he knew was pathetic for someone who was almost eighteen. But when you spent your nights being sexually abused by your father's drinking buddies, sex and kissing wasn't really something you were interested in, with males or females.

When Puck's tongue began working between his lips, Blaine submitted, trying not to shake, reminding himself over and over that Puck was not Jimmy, Puck was not Bruce; this was nothing like what they'd done. He was determined not to let his anxiety get the best of him, not to let those assholes ruin this for him. So he shoved all thoughts of them and of that out of his mind, instead choosing to focus on the feel of Puck's tongue as it ran over his own, the feel of Puck's chapped lips pressed against his own.

The other boy began to relax into Puck's embrace, growing more confident, less timid. Blaine slowly began to respond, no longer satisfied to simply allow Puck to kiss him, but wanting to kiss back. His tongue snaked it's way into Puck's mouth, mirroring Puck's actions, and Puck felt a shiver run down his spine that had nothing to do with the chilly temperature outside. He ran his hands up and down Blaine's back and pressed his body against Blaine's, feeling as if he couldn't be close enough to the other boy even though they were pushed as tight together as possible.

He was finally able to lose himself in the moment, in the feelings, so that he began to respond in kind. He shuddered as he gave in to the kiss, shyly easing his own tongue into Puck's eager mouth. Puck's mouth tasted of the Juicy Fruit gum that he had been chewing earlier mixed with the stale taste of smoke from the cigarette he'd smoked earlier. Blaine ran his tongue over the back of Puck's teeth, feeling he smooth hardness as Puck pulled him even closer, and Blaine pressed back, loving the sensation of Puck's hands running up and down his spine, combining with the quakes of pleasure.

Blaine was amazed at how it felt to kiss Puck. He expected it to be awkward, weird. But it was as far from that as possible, it felt right, it felt like home. It felt like something he never wanted to stop doing.

Puck couldn't help himself, and he let out a soft moan as Blaine's hand found his neck and his fingers began gently tickling the spot right below his ear. Blaine swallowed the other boy's moan and Puck could feel Blaine's lips quirk up into a smile against his own, seemingly pleased a bringing Puck such pleasure.

Puck could feel himself start to harden, and he felt Blaine's body stiffen in response, before instantly relaxing back, going with the flow. Puck was overjoyed to know that Blaine wasn't letting his fears get the best of him, hoping it meant Blaine trusted him enough to know he wasn't going to push anything on him.

As the kiss began to grow more heated, more passionate, Puck felt Blaine begin to get hard against him as well, their erections pressed as tight as the rest of their bodies. Puck emitted a low groan, and gently bit Blaine's lip with his teeth, sucking it into his own mouth, getting more insistent, forgetting for a minute to take it slow and easy.

Blaine broke the kiss off suddenly, pulling back, alarm in his eyes. "Puck," Blaine said breathlessly, looking panicked, his lips swollen from making out with the other boy. "I'm sorry, I'm not...I mean I can't, I mean," Blaine stumbled over his words, looking so scared and yet apologetic that Puck immediately felt like an asshole.

"Shit, Blaine, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to…I know that's not what you want, I didn't mean anything," Puck found himself fumbling his words just as much as Blaine, both boys attempting to take the blame.

The apprehension slowly drained from Blaine's eyes, replaced by an almost amused light, as he offered the other boy a timid smile. "I know," He responded quietly, sincerely.

"Good," Puck let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and gave Blaine one last quick peck on the lips.

The two laid there for a few silent minutes, both reflecting on what had just happened. The magnitude of what had transpired was not lost on either boy. They both knew their relationship had changed now. Whether I was for the good or the bad was yet to be seen, what may happen in the future was, as always, unknown, but both knew they'd finally done it. Crossed the line they'd been toeing for so long, the line they'd been so afraid of. It seemed silly now, especially when they both took into consideration how undeniably wonderful it had felt, how perfect it seemed, even in retrospect.

"Sleep?" Blaine broke the silence with a stifled yawn and question, the drugs from earlier beginning to take full effect, making it hard to keep his eyes open.

"Mmmm," Puck agreed, already feeling the drowsiness blanketing over him. He pulled Blaine back into his arms, and before the clock even had a chance to change to the next minute, the boys were fast asleep, with a ghost of a smile resting on both their faces.


	36. Superheroes

_A/N: Look, I'm no dead! I have a thousand excuses I could give you, but, well, I'm not gonna. Instead, please accept my sincere apologies for the delay in updating, and my disappearance from FF in general and enjoy the long awaited chapter 36! To anyone who reviewed in the past month that I didn't respond to, I also apologize, and please know that your reviews still made me smile, I just didn't get around to responding to them yet!_

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><p>Blaine awoke to the repetitive beep-beep of the alarm on his phone. Groaning, he hit at the incessant electronic until it shut up then blindly groped on the bedside table to pick it up, yanking it free of the charger. He brought the screen in front of his face and squinted at the time, eyes still sensitive to the bright light emitting from it in the darkened room. 5 AM. He knew Will got up around six, so he figured he and Puck had a good hour before Puck had to retreat to his own bed. He glanced over at Puck, who hadn't even stirred at the sound of the alarm. Which wasn't actually surprising, seeing as he was snoring so loud that Blaine wasn't entirely convinced it wasn't semi-trucks downshifting on the highway. Blaine let out a snort when he saw Puck also had an impressive puddle of drool on the pillow below him. "Classy," He commented out loud shaking his head with a small laugh.<p>

Blaine didn't want to risk going back to sleep, but he also wasn't ready to kick Puck out of his bed before it was absolutely necessary, so he rummaged in the drawer at his bedside table, pulling free his iPod and earbuds. He untangled them and put them in his ears, selecting one of his favorite mellow playlists, and settled back into his pillows to lose himself in the music for awhile.

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><p>Puck groaned slightly not much later, trying in his half awake state to figure out what was tapping on his foot and who was singing softly in the background.<p>

It took him a couple minutes to realize it was Blaine, mainly because he wasn't used to waking up in bed with someone, especially another guy, but also because this was the first time he'd heard Blaine singing since the hospital.

He'd never noticed before how beautiful Blaine's voice was, how much emotion it held with every word that left his lips. He may not have recognized the lyrics or the song, but he certainly recognized the heartbreak and pain in Blaine's voice as he softly sang out loud to a song only he could hear.

_You left a lovestain on my heart  
>And you left a bloodstain on the ground<br>But blood comes off easily_

_But blood comes off easily_

_You left a lovestain on my heart_  
><em>And you left a bloodstain on the ground<em>  
><em>But blood comes off easily<em>

_But blood comes off easily_

_You left my heart stained._

Puck finally opened his eyes, silently studying the boy he hoped to wake up next o for a long time to come. The tapping on his foot was coming from Blaine, who was gently tapping his own foot along to the music that Puck couldn't hear.

Blaine was resting up on his pillows, good arm behind his head and a peaceful look on his face. Puck knew the serene look had to do with the solace Blaine was taking in from whatever was playing into his ears.

Blaine must have felt himself being studied, because he opened his eyes and turned his head towards Puck, a sweet smile on his face and seemingly unsurprised to find Puck awake now. He took his earbuds out, shut off his iPod, set it aside and turned back towards Puck. "Good morning," He said politely.

"Mornin'," Puck said back in a voice rough from having just awoken. He cleared his throat, and motioned toward Blaine's forgotten iPod. "What was that? I didn't recognize it."

"Uh, José González. Lovestain," Blaine looked like he was going to add something else, but in the end he just shook his head slightly, as if trying to get rid of a thought and turned to Puck with a forced smile.

"I had to put my earbuds in, couldn't hear anything over your snoring. And since I thought I was going to drown in your drool, I wanted to go listening to music," He teased.

"I do not snore! Or drool!" Puck protested, even as he wiped dried drool from the corner of his mouth.

Blaine snorted. "Okay, whatever you say. But then we should probably inform Will that the monsters under our beds have serious sinus problems."

"Well, maybe Batman can come and take care of the monsters for us," Puck responded playfully.

"I'm sure that's first on his to-do list, right after ridding Gotham of all criminals."

Puck grinned and sat up, leaning his back against the wall, joining Blaine.

"Question," Puck asked after a moment, making eye contact with Blaine.

Blaine hesitated, sensing the change in tone. "Possibly an answer," He gave in after a few seconds.

Puck sat up straighter, angling his body towards Blaine, and placing a hand on Blaine's high, trying to make sure Blaine would know he wasn't poking fun. "What is it about Batman that you really like so much?" Puck saw a flash of annoyance cross Blaine's face and immediately reassured him. "I'm not being a jerk, or making fun of you, Blaine. It just seems like it goes deeper than he has a cool car. I'm honestly curious.

Blaine tensed before relaxing again and broke eye contact, looking out the window where the darkness still enveloped the city.

"Batman's self made," Blaine finally said in a small voice, sounding almost embarrassed. He sighed, started, stopped, started again. "All the other superheroes who's comics I read, or shows and movies I watched, they always had all these special powers, these abilities. Unrealistic bullshit," Blaine shrugged. He turned his head back in Puck's direction, but stared into his lap, concentrating on a loose thread in his shirt hat he fiddled with, picking at it until it broke off in to his fingers. He finally drug his eyes up, making brief contact with Puck's before giving another shrug and looking back down."I don't know, it's stupid," He muttered, feeling foolish.

"No, it's not," Puck said quickly, firmly. "Explain I to me," Puck urged. "I want to know," He added quietly when he got no response.

"I just…I remember being four or so and watching the superhero cartoons and just thinking how stupid and unlikely superheroes were. And I know, hell I knew then, that they weren't supposed to be realistic. They were cartoons, fantasies, meant to entertain, not real life imitations. Blaine stopped again, gathering his thoughts, struggling to find the right words to explain it to Puck.

Looking up, Blaine caught Puck's eyes with his own again, but this time he didn't look away. When he spoke there was an earnestness to his voice, and Puck could tell it had suddenly become important to Blaine for him to understand, so he stayed silent, encouraging Blaine with a smile and rubbing his thumb in a soothing, circular pattern on Blaine's thigh.

"I still remember the first time I saw a Batman cartoon and learned about him. I was five and my father was out of town on business so I was staying with Sebastian and his parents. We woke up really early Saturday morning, poured ourselves huge bowls of some sugary cereal and camped out in the living room, ready to watch cartoons and play with action figures all day. It was right after Christmas and Sebastian was showing me all his gifts. I remember wondering if Santa thought I was bad like my father did, and that's why I never got any gifts." Blaine's voice cracked at his, and he swiped at a tear that had escaped his eye and was making a run for it down his cheek.

Fighting the urge to break eye contact and clam up, Blaine rushed on, blinking furiously at the tears pooling up in his eyes.

"Anyways, Sebastian's dad was always a really early riser, so before we even turned the TV on he'd joined us. Anytime I was over there, Sebastian's parents treated me like I was their own son. I loved when my father had business trips and I got to stay there," Blaine trailed off, getting sidetracked for a moment, a faraway look full of longing and remembrance in his shiny eyes.

Shaking his head and offering a small smile he apologized. "Sorry, this is part of it, I swear, I'm getting to the point."

Puck nodded, a patient smile on his face, and used his hand that wasn't tracing invisible patterns on Blaine's pants to grasp Blaine's good hand gently, letting him know he understood.

"So, Sebastian goes to turn on the TV and his dad, Lee, stops him. He turns to Seb and says 'Don't we have a couple of unopened gifts under the tree, still?' And Seb and lee, they take me over to the tree and hand me this armful of the most beautifully wrapped gifts I've ever seen, and Lee tells me, 'Santa left these with a note, he said your chimney was dirty and he didn't want soot all over his clothes. Wanted to know if we could hold onto them for you'," Blaine stopped again, squeezing his eyes shut, ignoring the tears this caused to drip down his cheeks, and then plowing on again.

"Those were the first gifts I'd ever gotten. For anything. My father never allowed my Ma to get me birthday or Christmas gifts, best I can figure. And I'd certainly never been allowed o have a party. I just sat here, like a complete tool for a good five minutes, just staring at these gifts. I'd never unwrapped a gif, never received anything. I almost didn't want to open them. I wanted to just hold onto them, as a reminder that Santa didn't hate me. I think deep down I knew they were from Lee and Donna, Sebastian's mom. And I think that made them feel even more special to me. For the first time since my Ma killed herself, I felt like someone cared, like I mattered." Blaine took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

"Finally Sebastian started telling me 'Open them, open them!' And I didn't want to disappoint anyone, so I started unwrapping them. God, I was being so slow, so precise, afraid of tearing the paper and Seb, well he isn't really the most patient guy, never has been. I think at one point he almost took them from me he was so impatient," Blaine let out a chuckle at the memory.

"The first one I opened was this really cool set of Matchbox cars with one of those inclined tracks, where you could race four down at a time, y'know?" Puck nodded, letting Blaine know he knew he knew what he was talking about. "The second was a set of pajamas, with symbols and a superhero I didn't recognize and they said 'Batman' on them.

"I felt horrible, cause I had no clue who Batman was then. And I said as much to Lee and he responds that he'll tell me all about Batman and how cool he is once I finish opening the rest of the gifts. Of course, all the others were Batman related too. A huge Batmobile, a set of Batman action figures, that one was sweet, it had everyone, man. Batman, Robin, The Joker, The Riddler, Penguin, Two Face…" Blaine trailed off looking sheepish. "Hell, it even had Alfred the Butler. And then there was this big, heavy one, and it had probably close to twenty five video tapes in it. All these cartoon compilations, original Batman and the newer one, plus all the live action ones that were out by then. The original one with Michael Keaton and Jack Nicholson, and Batman Returns, the one with Danny DeVito as the Penguin. Sorry," Blaine interrupted himself to apologize with an embarrassed laugh when he realized how bad he was rambling and how big of a dork he probably sounded like.

"For what?" Puck asked sincerely. "Keep going," He said, genuinely interested in the story, and enjoying the way Blaine's face lit up talking about that day.

"Uh, it also had Batman and Robin the one with George Clooney and Arnold Schwarzenegger. God, I think Uma Thurman as Poison Ivy was my first crush because of that one. Oh and Batman Forever, with Tommy Lee Jones as Two Face and Jim Carrey as The Riddler," Blaine had a huge grin on his face now, and he was animated and talking excitedly remembering all of the Batman movies from long ago.

"Man, I think Seb and I watched nothing but Batman the entire time I was there. I was enamored. Anyways, so I finish unwrapping all these and I'm absolutely terrified of telling Lee that I'm not really into superheroes because to me they were bullshit. And Lee, looking back I think he knew how I felt about superheroes. I think Lee wanted to give me some semblance of normal. I'm pretty sure he and Donna knew things weren't great at home. They couldn't have known how bad, I know them, if they had an inkling of how bad it really was they would have gotten me out of there. I know they would have. But Lee takes one look at me, and before I could say anything he asks 'You know why Batman is the coolest superhero ever?' I shake my head, and Lee leans in like he's going to tell me some huge secret and whispers, "Batman's just like you or me or Sebastian.'

"I'm pretty sure I just gave him this blank stare and Lee laughs and then he tells me and Seb all about Batman and Gotham. He must have given us some two hour story and the whole time, Sebastian and I just sat there, completely enthralled, staring up at Lee like those kids they always show listening to Jesus tell stories. Hanging on his every word. Lee is one of those people who is just ridiculously charismatic, he could tell a story about making a sandwich and make you sad you missed out on being there, y'know?

"So, by the time he's done, Seb and I are convinced that Batman is hands down the most badass person ever to walk the earth."

Blaine glanced away from Puck, noticing it was getting close to six, taking a sip from his water from the night before, stalling for a second.

"I needed someone like Batman to idolize then. And Lee seemed to sense that. To me, Batman was this regular guy who just saw all of the injustices of the world around him, all the criminals and evil and instead of sitting back, waiting for someone else to take care of it or letting his life, his city, his world be run by the evil of men's nature, he fought back. He took action, he didn't sit around and let the bad guys win. He made himself into a superhero. He didn't get bitten by a spider and get some stupid ability, he wasn't from another planet with supernatural abilities and just decided to use them for good. Batman had no power aside from money and a willingness to fight. He gave himself power. Batman fought for what he believed in and he didn't let anyone or anything get in his way. He built himself into a superhero. That was mind-blowing for me. To me, Batman was realistic. Batman could exist. He was my first hero. Maybe he's fictional, but he's the first person who gave me hope that all I needed was my inner strength, my willingness to live and a little bit of fight to make things in my world better." Blaine looked drained from talking so much and he gave another one of his self depreciating shrugs to Puck. "I dunno, stupid maybe. I don't know."

Puck shook his head vehemently. "No, Blaine, not stupid. Pretty damn incredible that even as a kid you could look beyond flash and see what truly mattered. And Batman was a symbol of hope and fight to you, still is I'd wager. And everyone needs that, especially a kid in your situation. You deserve that," Puck finished.

The boys exchanged small, almost bashful smiles, and Puck leaned in slowly, looking for any sign of hesitance. Searching Blaine's face for it and seeing none, he gently pressed his lips o Blaine's, giving him a sweet kiss, one that expressed what words couldn't. Reluctantly, he pulled back, afraid of pushing. "Blaine," He began only for both of them to startle the sound of a door closing.

"Shit, out, out," Blaine shooed in a hushed whisper.

Puck scrambled into his own bed, and both boys barely had time to pretend to be asleep before the door to their room creaked open as Will peeked in on his newfound charges.

Puck let out a huge, fake snore and Blaine was glad he wasn't facing the door and had the covers over his head, because he had to shove his left fist into his mouth to stifle the giggles that were threatening to escape.

Somehow, they were both able to contain themselves for the five minutes it took until they heard he shower turn on in Will's bathroom, at which point Blaine picked up the bear from Brittany and wailed it at Puck's head, hissing, "You asshole!" Even as they both broke into fits of laugher.

"What?" Puck asked, feigning innocence. "I wanted it to seem realistic and someone claims I snore."

Finally they were able to calm down, and Blaine was able to retrieve his bear after Puck bearnapped it the first time he made a move for it. Blaine settled back on his bed, clutching his poor bear possessively. Puck did the same thing on his bed, minus the bear.

"My turn," Blaine announced, swiveling his head so he was looking a Puck.

"For?" Puck asked, confused.

"Question for question," Blaine explained.

"Okay," Puck shrugged.

"Honesty for honesty," Blaine clarified, suddenly serious again.

"Okay," Puck repeated, but slower. "Fair enough. Do your worst, Mr. Inquisitor."

Blaine rolled his eyes good naturedly. "What was your problem with Sebastian yesterday? He was nothing but friendly to you and you looked at him like he was a piece of gum on your shoe."

Inwardly, Puck groaned. He'd sort of forgotten that Blaine would bring that up sooner or later. He'd been hoping for later. Much later.

But Blaine had been completely open and honest with him, not only this morning, but last night as well, even though he'd been embarrassed. So Puck knew he owed him the same amount of respect.

Pursing his lips and shutting his eyes Puck muttered, "I was jealous." When there was no response, Puck opened one eye, sneaking a peek over at Blaine who looked baffled.

"Jealous? Of what?"

"Uh, seriously, dude?" Puck asked, thinking Blaine had to be yanking his chain. He stared at Blaine, almost wanting to laugh in disbelief.

"You're not honestly that clueless?" Puck asked sounding exasperated. Blaine looked even more confused.

"Oh my God," Puck said burying his head in his hands. Blaine _was_ that clueless. Puck was going to have to spell it out for him. Puck mumbled something quickly that Blaine didn't catch a word of.

"Try enunciating," Blaine suggested helpfully.

Puck shot him a glare. "I thought maybe you and Sebastian were more than friends and I was jealous of him, okay?" Puck muttered through clenched teeth.

Blaine blinked at Puck before bursting out into laughter.

"Oh real nice, laugh at me!" Puck said furiously.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you, I'm really not. I'm laughing with you. You just aren't joining in." Puck still wasn't amused so Blaine tried a different approach, still sniggering. "I'm laughing at the thought of me and Sebastian. That's…ew. I love Seb, I do, but, more like a brother. Not to mention, and again, let me reiterate, I really do love the guy, but I wouldn't even share a joint with him for fear of catching an STD."

Puck continued to look disgruntled for a minute before giving in and joining in the laughter.

When they were under control again, Blaine got up, and hobbled over to Puck's bed, sitting down gingerly on the side. This time he was the one who offered comfort, taking Puck's hand in his own and looking him in the eyes.

"You have nothing and no one to be jealous of. I promise. I'm not going to pretend to understand what's happening between us. A month ago we were both straight as fucking arrows. But I do know no one's ever made me feel happier or safer than you do. No one's ever broken through my shell the way you have. The only thing in my life I'm sure about right now is you," Blaine explained, getting nervous when Puck didn't say anything back. "Now would be a good time to respond," He hinted with a nervous chuckle.

Puck realized Blaine must be taking his silence as a bad sign and he tightened his grip on Blaine's hand. "I'm sorry, I've just…no one's ever told me anything like that before, I was savoring the moment," He admitted. "I don't understand us or this either yet. Bu I feel the same way, and maybe together we can make sense of us."

"Us?" Blaine asked sounding scared and hopeful at the same time.

"Us," Puck confirmed with a sure nod. "But maybe for now us can be kept between, well, us."

Blaine nodded. "Uh, yeah, not quite ready to…"

"Me either," Puck agreed with a smile.

"Not that I'm embarrassed or ashamed of you," Blaine reassured Puck, looking at him expectantly.

"Oh, God, no Blaine, me neither," It was Puck's turn for reassurance.

Blaine visibly relaxed and returned Puck's earlier smile. "We should probably figure it out ourselves before…"

"Before we have to listen to everyone else's thoughts and opinions?" Puck supplied.

"Exactly," Blaine nodded, his smile growing into a big grin he couldn't hold in any longer.

Puck's face broke into a huge smile at the same time and both boys immediately leaned forward for a quick kiss, leaning their foreheads against each other's.

"I'll be here for you every step of the way," Puck vowed quietly to Blaine.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Yes, again. Fun fact: I'm obviously slightly obsessed with Batman for the same reasons. Another fun fact: while I have plenty of first hand experience dealing with a lot of what happened in his story, abuse at the hands of my parents is not one of them. I got lucky and got two of the most amazing, incredible and caring people in the world for parents, so Lee and Donna, Sebastian's dad and mom are loosely based off my own. Lee is my dad's middle name and Donna is my mom's first name, because she actually goes by her middle name._


	37. Wrong

Blaine was sitting at the counter in the kitchen when Will walked in.

"Take your morning pills?"

Blaine nodded noncommittally.

"You have a few minutes? There's a couple of things I wanted to talk to you about."

Blaine shrugged and nodded again, sipping his cup of coffee, wishing the pain meds would kick in already. Everywhere was throbbing this morning.

"All right. Well first off I wanted to talk to you about the lawyer we met with. I wanted to call him today and let him know if we would be interested in hiring him or not. The decisions up to you in the end, but just let me put my two cents in. I, personally, think we'd be fools not to hire him. He seems like he genuinely wants to help, and if you don't win any of the money from your father, then he won't even charge us, regardless of whether they lock your father and Jimmy and Bruce up or not."

Blaine frowned, thinking for a second before asking, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why…everything? Why does he want to help, he doesn't fuckin' know me. But more than that, why would he do anything for free if I don't get a payout?"

Will studied the surly teen across from him, wondering why he was in such a bad mood this morning, and also feeling a stab of sympathy for a kid who couldn't understand why someone would want to help him for nothing in return. "I know you probably haven't run across too many people like this in your life, Blaine, but some people want to help others for no reason other than because they have a good heart. James sincerely just wants to see you get the justice you deserve."

"Who's James?"

"James Winters…the attorney?"

"Oh."

Will hesitated before continuing. "Blaine, are you okay? You seem a little, uh, grumpy this morning."

"M'fine. Just hurting this morning. My head, my jaw, my ribs, my arms, my hands, my legs; everything is fuckin' throbbing and I feel like shit."

Will looked carefully at Blaine before making a decision that he wasn't lying and getting up to walk over to the cupboard where the pills were. He pulled out a couple pills and set them on the counter in front of Blaine. "Dr. Weiss said for the next few weeks you'll have good days and bad days. He also told me on the bad days, it's okay to take an extra pill or two when needed. So take another Oxycontin and another muscle relaxer, and as soon as we're done talking I want you to go lay down in bed, okay?"

"I wasn't trying to-" Blaine started.

"No, Blaine, you've been doing fine with the pills, I know you weren't trying to get more."

Blaine nodded gratefully, and swallowed the pills together.

"So… James Winters. What should I tell him?"

Blaine rubbed at his eyes and then shrugged. "I'll trust your judgment. If you think it's a good idea, then hire him."

"Okay, I'll call him in a bit. The other thing I wanted to discuss with you was school."

"What about it?" Blaine asked warily.

"I'm not sure it's such a good idea to send you back to Dalton, especially while your father is still walking around free. And, honestly, I can't afford their tuition."

"I don't want to go back there, anyways, if we're being frank here. Too many questions, and eventually the story will get around, and I don't want to deal with all the stares and whispering and bullshit," Blaine replied.

"Okay, well…how would you feel about transferring to McKinley? Not right away, I still want to keep you home for a least another week or two, but if you want to transfer there, I could go on and set it up and then figure out your schedule and talk to your teachers and get you any work you might need to catch up in classes."

Blaine didn't look surprised, and Will had a sneaking suspicion he'd known all along he'd end up at McKinley now that he was living with Will. "That sounds fine. At least I'll know people there. One condition though. I get to join the New Directions."

Will laughed. "That would be a definite. All right, go. Lay down. Get some rest. You look like hell."

"Gee thanks," Blaine grinned wryly, struggling up. "Can you carry my coffee into the room?"

Will nodded, still a little put off by how agreeable Blaine was being. He wasn't used to it. But he also wasn't about to complain.

* * *

><p>Puck stared at the unknown number showing up on his caller ID for a few seconds before his curiosity finally took a hold and he answered it. "Yeah?"<p>

"Noah?"

"Who's this?" Puck grunted.

"Sebastian Smythe. Blaine's friend?"

Inwardly, Puck groaned. "What do you want? And how the hell do you have my number?"

"I jacked it out of Blaine's cell when I was there last night. Look, I'm no more excited to be speaking to you than you are to me. But I have a…situation. Blaine's father is here. At my house. Freaking out wanting to know where his son is. It's just me here, and honestly, I've no clue how to proceed."

"Shit," Puck swore. "Text me your address, I'm on my way." Puck hung up, muttering a string of curse words under his breath, and grabbed his keys off the counter; glad Blaine was still out cold in the bedroom. "Schue! I'm heading out for a bit!" He hollered as he ran out of the house with no explanation and no chance for Will to respond.

Puck made record time and was at Sebastian's in twenty minutes. He refrained from running his car into the back of Blaine's dad's fancy one, shut off the engine and jumped out, running up the steps to Sebastian's mansion. He pounded on the door and then let himself in, too worried and impatient to wait for Sebastian to answer the door.

What he found made his blood boil and caused his hate for Blaine's father to almost double. Sebastian was backed up against a wall, looking terrified and Blaine's dad had an arm pulled back two seconds from hitting another kid.

"Hey! Pick on someone your own size for once!" All of Puck's bottled up anger came pouring out in that one brief moment. All he could see was flashes of his own dad hitting him, flashes of the scared look that still crossed Blaine's face anytime someone raised a voice, flashes of Mr. Anderson's smug grin and complete lack of remorse or concern and love for his son as the cops hauled him out of the bedroom while Blaine lie on the floor, half dead. All he could hear was every insult his own father had hurled at him, and every insincere apology he had given afterward, the cold monotone Blain spoke with at the lawyer's office and the pain in Blaine's voice when they talked about Batman.

Puck hadn't even realized he'd moved from the doorway until his hands were grabbing fistfuls of Mr. Anderson's shirt and yanking him away from a very relieved looking Sebastian.

All of Puck's pent up aggression didn't hold a candle to Mr. Anderson's drunken rage though, and in the next moment Puck found himself lying on the floor with blood gushing out of his nose.

Mr. Anderson directed a kick to Puck's abdomen, and stated in a chillingly calm voice, punctuating each word with another kick, "I. Want. My. Son. Back."

Puck groaned in pain, clutching his stomach, and Sebastian made a feeble attempt to pull Mr. Anderson away from the other teen. He had called the police shortly after Puck, but had only had enough time to give a quick synopsis of the situation before Mr. Anderson had gotten inside and started threatening him. Sebastian had grown up around Mr. Anderson, and this was a side he'd never seen. The man had certainly known how to put on an act in front of company, that was for sure. The sad truth that this was the father Blaine had gone home to every night made Sebastian's guilt over never pushing the issue in all the years he'd known Blaine grow even more. This was something he couldn't even fathom ever forgiving himself for.

Mr. Anderson took advantage of Sebastian's preoccupation with his thoughts to sucker punch him, causing the teen to stumble backwards in surprise. With something between a groan, a whimper and a curse Puck managed to his feet, gathering himself enough to grab a hold of Mr. Anderson and turn him away from the weaker teen and back to him. "Pick on someone your own size for once," Puck snarled, ignoring the crimson red blood dripping off his face and onto the Smythe's undoubtedly expensive cream colored carpet. He was beginning to think it wasn't his most brilliant idea ever to not at least mention to Schue where he was going. And he didn't even have his phone on him; he'd left it in the car in his haste to get inside.

Puck drew his fist back; ignoring the pain it caused his ribs, and with a growl let his fly towards Mr. Anderson face, fueling it with all the anger, all the hate, all the pain and sorrow brought on by his own father. A sense of liberation flowed through Puck's very soul as knuckles met jaw, and with the gratifying crunch of broken bone resonating in the room, Puck dropped the older man to the floor with one hit.

Both teens winced slightly as Mr. Anderson's head smacked off the corner of the hall table on his way to the ground. Sebastian watched the blood seeping out of the gash near Mr. Anderson's temple and wondered briefly if his parent's were going to be pissed about the stain on the carpet before he realized that there were probably more important issues at hand right now.

Puck spared a brief glance at Mr. Anderson, completely unconcerned with his well being, and his lip curled up in a disturbing smirk. "Asshole," He spat at the unmoving body.

"Is he…?" Sebastian trailed off, a little sickened at how much blood was coming out of Mr. Anderson's head.

"No," Puck replied confidently, after a moment. "He's breathing, look," Puck gestured towards the even rise and fall of Mr. Anderson chest. He was about to ask Sebastian for a towel for his nose when he heard a siren growing steadily closer.

"Did you call the police?"

Sebastian nodded, grimacing at the soreness in his right eye where he'd caught the punch. "Right after you."

Puck nodded thoughtfully. "I can't get in trouble for this, right? I mean, it was self defense, you'll back me up, right?" He asked, dreading just the thought of returning to juvie.

"Right," Sebastian gave both questions a verbal response paired with an affirmative nod, just as two policemen appeared in the threshold of the open front door to the Smythe house.

* * *

><p>Santana was hunting for her car keys, about to leave for Brittany's when her cell phone came to life, and the sound of George Thorogood's <em>Bad to the Bone<em> alerted her to an incoming call from Puck. It still annoyed her that he'd snuck into her phone and downloaded and set his own ringtone, just not enough for her to actually bother changing it.

She glanced at the screen, confirming what she already knew, and considered not answering it before giving in and pressing the green button. "Yeah?" She answered impatiently, not bothering with niceties.

"Well, good morning to you, too, sunshine," Puck's was aiming for sarcasm, but it fell flat and his voice just sounded drained.

Santana frowned at his tone, her senses on high alert. "Puck? What is it? What's wrong?" Her mind was already scanning the possibilities, taunting her with all sorts of unimaginable horrors.

"Er, well," Puck hemmed and hawed for a minute, which was unlike him.

"Puck," Barked Santana, wondering how worried she should be. "Spit it out."

Puck gave an overview of the events to Santana, and then rushed on before she could comment on anything. "I need you to go over to Schue's, tell him what's going on; preferably not within earshot of Blaine, and then if you can stay there with Blaine and send Schue to the Westerville Police Station?" He ended in a hopeful question, again sounding quite unlike himself to Santana.

"All right. I'll text you when he's on his way," Santana agreed. She couldn't really say no, now could she?

"Thanks," Puck breathed a deep sigh of relief, instantly regretting it when his ribs reminded him they were most likely bruised

Santana sent a quick text to Brittany, telling her she would call when she could, and hopped in her car, still unsure if she was more worried about what was going on or more annoyed about the change of plans.

* * *

><p>Will's hands were gripping the steering wheel so tight that they were starting to hurt as he did his best to stick to the speed limit on his way to the police station. The last thing he needed right now was something else to worry about. But worrying was one of his specialties it seemed, as his mind churned through all the new complications and setbacks this incident could cause all around.<p>

Santana had told him Puck wasn't badly injured, but that did little to ease his mind. Will couldn't help but feel a little bit of annoyance at Puck as well. Puck should have told him what was going on and let him handle it, not rushed off to try and save the day. _Now you're just being petty_, his brain chastised him. He knew that Puck's reasons for going over to Sebastian's after getting that call had to be deeper than that. Whether Puck admitted or not, Will had no doubt in his mind that Puck had a damn good reason for being so reckless. He doubted he'd ever find out exactly what it was, but the though alone was enough to make any remaining trace of irritation at Puck vanish from Will's mind.

A rare expletive burst from Will's lips as yet another stop light turned red before he could get through. He slammed a fist against his steering wheel in frustration and pleaded with the light to change back to green already. Since Santana had arrived looking flustered and speaking so fast Will could barely keep up, nothing had gone right. He'd shoved his feet in the wrong shoes, slammed his hip into the kitchen counter hard enough to form an immediate bruise, and finished that off with misplacing his car keys for the first time in his life, only to find them in his pocket after ten minutes of searching the house. Hell, the only thing that _had_ gone even remotely close to right was Blaine still being out cold when Santana arrived and remaining that way when Will rushed out.

Now he just had to hope he stayed that way until they got back. Not that that would make things any easier. He'd still have to tell Blaine his dad had shown up at Sebastian's, drunk and threatening, and that he'd attacked both his friends. And that Puck had retaliated. Will had a sinking feeling that conversation was not going to be a fun one and that none of this would sit well with Blaine or his conscience.

"C'mon, c'mon," Will muttered to the traffic light, reacting so fast when it finally did change that he ended up squealing through the intersection and laying tread marks on the pavement behind him.

Between work, preparing the glee club for sectionals, worrying about Blaine, worrying about Puck, taking care of both teens, trying to afford groceries for two extra mouths and what he was sure would be a dramatic increase in all his utility bills that he could already hardly afford on a meager teacher's salary, and the terrifying thought of Mr. Anderson or Jim or Bruce showing up on his doorstep in the middle of the night, Will was starting to think of sleep, relaxation and free time as fond memories of the past that may never return.

And he also got the added fun of trying to decipher what was with Blaine and Puck and their mood swings and a sudden need for secrecy and locked doors and hushed tones behind said locked doors. If this was typical teenage behavior and how it felt to be a parent with the constant exhaustion and anxiousness and worry pecking away at his brain, then Will wasn't sure why he'd ever thought being a parent seemed like a good idea in the first place. So far all he had to show for it were newfound, and apparently permanent, dark circles under his eyes and a whole lot more grey hair than he remembered having a couple months ago.

Of course, if Will was being one hundred percent honest with himself, he wouldn't trade these problems for all the sleep and money and ease of mind in the world. The sense of pride he felt in the boys when they conquered a fear and the tenderness he felt in his heart for them whenever they looked scared or worried or upset was more important than sleep, money and a worry-free mind. And it hadn't even been a week since they'd come to stay with him, so he could only imagine how he'd feel in a few weeks, much less months.

It felt nice to be needed, and Will loved that he got to show both teens that not all men were like the fathers they grown so accustomed to. He wanted so badly to not only be a role model for the boys but also to be a friend, a confidant, and above all else, a father figure. Because that was one thing both boys those boys needed, one thing they'd never really had but most certainly deserved.

Will's mind had slowed down on all the fretting without him realizing it, so by the time he pulled into the police station parking lot he was a lot calmer and more rational; ready to go do what he could to help one of his boys.

* * *

><p>You know how sometimes when you first awaken; before you even manage to open your eyes, you know that something is wrong? You don't know what's wrong and you don't know how you even know something's wrong but you know without a doubt that somewhere, something that directly affect you is just not right. Yeah, that was exactly the urgency and dread that Blaine got upon awakening. He hadn't pried his eyes open, had no way of even knowing what time it was, but he knew that getting out of bed would bring nothing good or worthwhile to his day. Just more bad news. More shit he'd have to deal with.<p>

He briefly entertained the idea of burying his head under the pillow and doing his best impersonation of an ostrich, but sadly, running from problems never seemed to solve them. Usually it just made them that much worse when they finally caught up to you. And they _always_ caught up to you.

Heaving a dramatized sigh for the benefit of no one but himself, Blaine forced his eyelids to part and fumbled for his phone to check the time. He glared accusingly at the screen on his iPhone, as if all the bullshit he was about to have to get up and deal with was entirely this inanimate object's fault. _Three PM, you lazy fuck, _the iPhone taunted him. "Fuck you," he responded out loud, hoping no one was within close enough range to the bedroom to overhear him talking to his iPhone. Or himself, as they'd most likely assume he was doing. He wasn't sure which would be worse.

He hadn't even put his feet on the floor yet and already he knew going back to sleep had been of the dumbest decisions he made this past week. "I don' know what's wrong, and I don't know why you can't leave me the hell alone, but I really hate you right now," Blaine continued talking out loud, only this time it was the universe as a whole he was speaking to. He'd realized a long time ago that there was no way any type of deity existed. There was too much bad shit in the world for that to be even a slight possibility.

Blaine made up his mind that it was pointless to put off the inevitable and he poured himself out of bed and into his crutches, exiting the bedroom and hoping that maybe, just maybe, he was wrong and everything was right. He knew he was wrong about being wrong and everything being right the second he hobbled into the living room and saw no sign of Will or Puck, and instead a bored and slightly aggravated Santana sitting on the couch, flipping listlessly through the guide on the cable box.

She either didn't hear him or was ignoring him, because she didn't budge when he entered. Blaine cleared his throat loudly, and Santana turned around. "Um, hi?" Blaine hinted at her, cocking one eyebrow and waiting for an explanation.

"Well good morning, sleepyhead," Santana replied a little too brightly. "How was your nap?" Since when was Santana all sunshine and smiles and manners? Had Blaine been transported into some awkward Stepford Wives dimension while he slept? As nice as that sounded, he highly doubted it. Someone was putting on just a little (okay a lot) too much of an act.

"It was so wonderful I wish I'd never woken up," Blaine muttered. The last part at least was completely true. He did wish he hadn't woken up, that was for sure. "Mind telling me why you're here and Mr. Schue and Puck seemingly, well, aren't?" Blaine cut to the chase, in no mood for pleasantries and pretending.

Santana bit her lips, looking almost nervous, her eyes darting from Blaine to the door as if she were trying to decide if she should just hightail it out of there and leave him with no answers.

"Santana."

Her signature scowl reappeared, immediately masking the cheerful person she'd been just moments ago. "Fine. But don't get pissed at me, and don't bother peppering me with questions, right now all I know is what I'm about to tell you," Santana huffed.

Blaine waited, making a 'hurry it up' gesture after a minute of silence, which Santana responded to with a very unladylike gesture of her own in return, before telling Blaine everything she knew.

* * *

><p>Will thanked the he police officer, shook his hand and turned around to face Puck and Sebastian.<p>

"Okay, guys. We're good to go. Sebastian, I spoke with your mom on the phone, she asked me to bring you home with me until her or your dad can get off work, all right?"

Sebastian nodded, relieved his mom hadn't insisted on leaving work immediately and coming to get him. Well, she had at first, actually, but Will had talked her out of it, explaining there was nothing she could do and that no one was seriously injured.

"Puck, do you think you need to see a doctor?" Will asked as the trio headed towards his beat up car.

Puck shook his head. "Just bruised ribs, they wouldn't be able to do anything, anyway."

"Okay. Let me know if you change your mind. Let's go relieve Santana."

Puck's phone was the only response to Will and it gave off a loud chime, indicating a new text message. Puck glanced at it, grumbling a "Fuckin' great," under his breath as he read it.

Will and Sebastian waited for him to elaborate.

Puck looked up at his two companions. "Blaine woke up. Santana gave him a rundown of what happened. She said now he's just sitting there and she can't tell if he's scared, mad or indifferent."

Will unlocked the car and they all climbed in. "Puck, I think we need to get home and check on Blaine, do you mind if I bring you back out later to pick up your car?"

Puck had completely forgotten his car was still at Sebastian's, they'd been brought over in a police car.

"That's fine," He agreed readily, wanting to get home to Blaine as fast as possible himself.


	38. Effect

_AN: So, today, well technically yesterday now, was the one year anniversary of when I published the first chapter of this. I can' believe some of you have stuck with me that long! Especially since lately I can only manage one chapter ever six weeks it seems. Hopefully things are calming down a bit now, and I should have a new laptop soon, so with any luck updates will come weekly or biweekly soon...no promises though! _

* * *

><p>Santana set her phone down on the table and studied Blaine out of the corner of her eye. He was perched on the edge of the couch at the opposite end of her, his posture rigid, jaw clenched, and good hand gripping the top of one of his crutches that leaned next to him. Everything about his outward appearance suggested he was pissed beyond belief, but the slight tremor in his left hand and the kicked puppy look in his eyes hinted that his emotions weren't that simple. Beyond what was visible to the eye ran a confused mess of thoughts and feelings, like a pile of jumbled wires behind an entertainment center. You had no clue which wire was plugged into which piece of equipment or where it went in the power strip, either. You could see the middle part that lay in a pile with the rest, but you had no idea where they came from and where they were going from there.<p>

Blaine tried his best to get a grip on his thoughts, to figure out what he was feeling, what the dominant mood in the cocktail of sentiments he felt was, but he couldn't do it. Was he angry? Yes. Hell yes. He could feel the fury boiling in his heart, threatening to spill over. But who was he angry at? His father topped the list of course, but he was also displeased with Santana for babysitting him, Puck for running off to Sebastian's without telling him, Seb for sneaking Puck's number and then calling him and Will for leaving without bothering to tell him what was going on.

But anger was just one ingredient in the mix, it's flavor wasn't as strong as it could have been because it was diluted with the sourness of fear, the tartness of worry, the bitterness of guilt, the acidic burn of helplessness. And that was just the beginning of his own personal recipe for a breakdown.

His brain was so busy trying to sort through his feelings that he didn't even register Santana's voice as she spoke to him, didn't notice when she got up and stood in front of him. Blaine's mind was in overdrive, working through everything, close to shorting a circuit. He could feel the downward spiral happening within him, he knew his grip on reality was vanishing. What he didn't know was how to stop it.

"Blaine!" Santana said for the fifth time, urgency and concern etched in her voice. She still received no response. She snapped her fingers in front of his face, not liking how the sadness in his eyes had turned dark before going out completely, leaving him with a creepy, blank stare.

His eyes were pointed directly at her, but Santana knew he wasn't seeing her, not really. With a muffled, frustrated scream, Santana placed both her hands solidly on Blaine's shoulders, gripped tightly and gave him a good shake as she hollered his name in his face for the umpteenth time.

* * *

><p>Will hadn't even come to a complete stop in the driveway before Puck was throwing open his door on the passenger side and jumping out, jogging up the steps and into the house, anxious to check on Blaine. He heard Santana saying Blaine's name repeatedly as he hurried through the kitchen and into the living room where the pair was.<p>

"What's wrong? What's going on?" He asked Santana, who moved over as Puck arrived by them. It was a stupid question, of course. Puck knew exactly what was wrong and exactly what was going on. He took Santana's place in front of Blaine, kneeling down in front of him and placing his hands on Blaine's knees, squeezing lightly and speaking in a soothing voice.

Will and Sebastian joined Santana where she stood, off to the side, out of the way, all three of them sensing that Puck knew what he was doing and that Puck was the person Blaine would respond to right now.

Blaine's entire body was shaking as if someone had electrified him, and his eyes were hazy, unfocused, lost. The seconds ticked by, turning into minutes, and nothing changed. Will, Sebastian and Santana still stood in a small cluster off to the side, Puck stayed kneeling in front of Blaine, murmuring so softly to him that no one could make out what he was saying, and Blaine remained stuck inside of his own head, sinking deeper and faster the more he struggled to find a way out, just like quicksand.

It was getting to the point where Will was ready to call an ambulance and Sebastian and Santana were considering picking Blaine up and shaking him. Puck was beginning to wonder if he was fighting a losing battle. He'd never seen Blaine retreat this far into himself and certainly not for so long.

Puck spoke to the other inhabitants of the room without turning around. "Give us a few minutes alone. If he hasn't snapped out of it in five minutes I'll call the ambulance myself."

Santana and Sebastian nodded, even though Puck couldn't see them, and shuffled off into the kitchen, Santana reaching back and yanking Will after her when he looked ready to protest.

Puck waited until they were alone, and then moved his hands off Blaine's knees, taking the other boy's left hand in his right one and gently placing his left hand on Blaine's cheek. "Blaine, honey, it's okay. It's just you and me now, all right? I know you don't want to go back to the hospital, so I need you to come back to me, please. Whatever's going on in your head, we'll figure it out together. Promise," Puck begged in a whisper, trying not to let the panic he felt show in his voice.

It took another minute of Puck's soothing, hushed promises, but slowly the vibrating in Blaine's body eased, and a dull light began to overtake the shadows in his eyes.

"Hey," Puck said quietly, smiling at Blaine, and continuing to stroke his hand and cheek.

Blaine blinked, eyes still not focused completely, the fog still not fully cleared from his brain. He blinked a few more times, until his vision was no longer blurred, and then looked around wildly with just his eyes until they finally centered on Puck.

"Welcome back," Puck's smile grew into a fully fledged grin.

Blaine offered no response except a small upward quirk of his lips that wasn't quite a smile and that disappeared when he gave his head a quick shake, attempting to clear the rest of the murkiness from his mind.

Puck waited patiently for Blaine to say something or make a move; he just smiled encouragingly at him in silence, not protesting when Blaine removed his hand from his grasp.

After a few minutes, Blaine timidly reached his hand back out, bypassing Puck's hand and instead, lightly tracing a line down the bridge of his nose, shuddering as he did so, as if it was his nose and not Puck's that was swollen and bruised. "I'm sorry," Blaine said in a soft voice, guilt crashing over him like a wave as he saw the proof of what his father had done.

Puck shook his head, "For what? You didn't punch me."

"I know," Blaine said in a broken voice. "But-"

"But nothing." Puck stated firmly. "You can't blame yourself for someone else's actions. Okay?"

Blaine nodded mutely.

"Schue, Santana and Sebastian are kinda worried. Why don't we go in the kitchen, get something to drink?" Puck suggested, standing up, and holding out a hand.

Blaine was still quiet, but he took Puck's outstretched hand and let the other boy pull him up, taking the crutches he held out in his other hand with a mumble of what Puck thought was thanks.

* * *

><p>Santana could be (and had been) called a lot of things, but oblivious was certainly not one of them. She knew when two people were more than friends, and she had no doubt in her mind that Puck and Blaine were not <em>just friends. <em>Hell, up until a few weeks ago Puck hated the guy. She'd never understood why Puck seemed to loathe Blaine so much before, but now she was pretty sure she had an idea. Whether Puck realized it then or even now she doubted, but subconsciously, his reasons for disliking Blaine before were now crystal clear.

Ignoring Schue's protests, she peaked around the corner at Puck and Blaine, denying them the privacy they obviously thought they had. Santana smirked to herself as she looked at the proof; Puck held Blaine's hand in one of his and had his other hand on Blaine's cheek.

"Say anything to anyone and I promise you, you'll regret it."

Santana jumped at the velvety smooth voice in her ear that didn't sound like it was joking. She pivoted, placing one hand on her hip, and glaring at Sebastian. "Don't sneak up on me like that you rodent," She hissed.

"Then don't spy on people," Sebastian retorted, shaking his head. He went back to where Mr. Schue was waiting at the kitchen table, ignoring everything going on in his own home, chuckling as Santana joined them a few seconds later, looking annoyed.

"Done eavesdropping, Princess?" Sebastian never was one to let things go and keep his mouth shut. He got a kick out of aggravating people. Especially when they made it so easy.

"Shut up you little-"

"Enough!" Will rarely raised his voice at any of his students but he refused to sit there passively, listening to the two of them bicker. "If you two can't do anything but take shots at each other, than just don't speak, all right? I'm going to go see how Blaine is; if he isn't better I'm taking him to the hospital." Will declared, standing up swiftly, causing his chair to scrape backwards against the linoleum.

"I'm fine," Said a tired, out of sorts voice, that didn't actually sound fine at all.

"Blaine," Will couldn't hide his shock. He wondered how Puck had gotten him to snap out of it, the kid had practically been comatose a few minutes ago. More and more Will found himself thinking that asking Puck to stay with him and Blaine had been one of the best decisions he'd made recently. They certainly seemed to have bonded, and Blaine seemed to trust Puck when he wouldn't trust anyone else. Will didn't even want to think of where he and Blaine would be right now if it was just the two of them living in his house. Most likely Will would still be standing awkwardly in the kitchen waiting for Blaine to come in off the front porch steps.

The kitchen was quiet, no one quite knowing what to say, Blaine, embarrassed, was suddenly enthralled with the white on white pattern of his socks, Will was still too surprised Blaine was moving and talking like nothing had happened, Sebastian knew his childhood friend well enough that he began scratching his forehead in a useless attempt to cover his black eye, Santana was staring at Puck, seeing him in a new light other than the manwhore she used to hook up with, and Puck had a sinking feeling he knew why Santana was looking at him funny, so he dashed outside to smoke a cigarette.

Will finally looked over at Santana and Sebastian, still seated at the table, trying to convey to them to give them a minute alone. Sebastian picked up on it, and stood up. "I think I'm going to see if Puck needs help lighting his cigarette," He gave Santana a meaningful look.

Santana jumped up out of her chair, glad for an excuse to get away from the weird vibes. "Me too! Those child safety lighters can be so damn tricky, can't they?" Santana and Sebastian practically sprinted for the door, leaving a slightly bemused Will and a still shy Blaine behind.

Will busied himself in the cabinets and at the sink, finally turning around to face Blaine. "Here," Will set a glass of water and a Xanax on the table, motioning for Blaine to sit and take the pill.

Blaine obeyed, and then looked up at Will expectantly.

Will sighed, scratched the back of his neck, and then sat back down in the chair opposite the teen. "Talk to me, Blaine. Tell me what's going on, what I can do to help. What are you feeling?"

Blaine gave a halfhearted shrug and made a noise in the back of his throat.

"Blaine, if you shut me out, I can't help you."

"Who says I need help?" Blaine mumbled, a slight hint of agitation in his voice.

"Everyone needs help now and again," Will said gently, picking up on the sudden change in Blaine's mood. He knew he wasn't going to get much out of the teen tonight. Once Blaine's mood shifted a certain way his personality seemed to change completely along with it. Blaine's eyes held that defensive look Will was growing to despise and he knew it was only a matter of time before Blaine either shut him out completely or began getting angry.

"If you need anything, I'll be in my office grading papers," Will said finally, feeling defeated. "I'm always here, Blaine. Don't forget that." Will stood up and left the kitchen, leaving a somewhat confused Blaine behind.

* * *

><p>Sebastian turned away from the window he was peeking in to glance at Puck, feeling as if he should ask permission. "Do you mind if I talk with Blaine alone for a little bit?"<p>

Puck looked surprised and shrugged. "No, man, whatever."

Sebastian nodded thanks, and let himself back inside the house. Blaine was sitting at the counter, circling a finger around the top of his glass of water absently. He made no indication that he was aware of Sebastian's presence, but when Sebastian spoke he didn't startle in the slightest.

"How goes it, killer?" Sebastian turned a chair around and straddled it backwards, resting his chin on the back, and waiting for his friend to respond.

Blaine didn't turn to look, but he let his shoulders rise and fall and gave a small shake of his head.

"Can you at least look at me while we talk?"

Blaine sighed, but turned his stool around, glaring at Sebastian as he waited.

For the first time, Sebastian really studied the boy who had always been like his brother. He hated himself for not seeing it before. For not seeing the sadness, the fear, the anger that was so obvious in Blaine's face. For a long, drawn out moment the two childhood friends just stared at each other in a contemplative silence, the air between them thick with Sebastian's guilt.

"I'm so sorry," Sebastian whispered after a long time, breaking the eye contact, feeling like the worst person ever to walk the earth. How could he have not noticed how bad things were for Blaine? Why had he never spoken up? He'd known things weren't great at home for Blaine, so why had he never fucking opened his damn mouth? He'd certainly never hesitated to do that at any other moment in his life.

Blaine tilted his head, mimicking the gesture of a confused animal, unsure what Sebastian was apologizing for. "For what?"

Sebastian let out a humorless laugh, disbelieving. "For what? _For what_? For not fucking doing anything! I knew your dad hit you, and I never spoke up! I knew you were unhappy and I never said a damn word! I knew things weren't right and I didn't do a Godamn thing, did I? Not once over the course of seventeen fuckin' years did I ever say or do anything! I let you spend the night at my house how many fuckin' times and then just let you go home to that…that monster afterwards! I could have said something, done something, to stop this years ago, and _I never fuckin' did!_" Sebastian exploded, angrier at himself than he'd ever been, tears shining bright in his eyes.

Blaine was taken aback by Sebastian's outburst, not used to seeing him like that. Sebastian was cool, calm, collected. His emotions never got the best of him. Sometimes Blaine doubted he even _had_ emotions. "Seb, I never-" Blaine faltered. "I never blamed you. I never wanted you to do anything to begin with. Hell I never wanted you to even know."

"That's not the point, Blaine! The point is I should have done something! Because I did know! Maybe not the extent of it, but I knew. Deep down I fuckin' knew!"

Blaine struggled up and moved over to the table sitting next to Sebastian. "It's done now. Can't change anything. Anyways, in seventeen years I never once asked for help, so," Blaine shrugged and left it there.

"Maybe. But, still. I can't change how I feel, Blaine. And right now, I feel guilty as fuck."

"Well maybe that speaks a lot, in and of itself, y'know?" Blaine responder after a few minutes of silent contemplation. Sebastian gave him a questioning look, so he elaborated. "You feel guilty that you never stepped in because you feel like that makes you a bad friend or some shit, right?" Blaine asked, and Sebastian nodded. "Okay, well, if you weren't a good friend than would you really feel guilty right now?"

Sebastian took in Blaine's words and eventually offered a small smile. "Guess you're right. Can I ask you something?" Now Blaine nodded. "If we are really friends, than why didn't you ever ask me for help? Why were you never honest with me about what was going on? You know my parents would have taken you in, all you had to do was ask."

"I know. And maybe that was enough for me. To know that all I had to do was come clean and ask for help. Just knowing there was a family out there that would take me in," Blaine shrugged. "I dunno. I guess that was all I needed to keep going on the days when it felt pointless. Just the knowledge that someone somewhere gave a shit, y'know? Should I have said something when it started getting really bad? Yeah. But I didn't. I've never been one to ask for help, you know that. Hell my first complete sentence was 'Do myself'," Blaine gave a chuckle. "I didn't want your help. I didn't want to ask for it. I thought that would be admitting defeat, that it would make me weak. Looking back, I was young and dumb. But like I said, we can't change anything now. The past is the past. Bastian, you're like a brother to me. You know that. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Sebastian smiled and placed a friendly hand on Blaine's shoulder. "Ditto. But next time, come to me, all right? Open up to me. You know I'm always here for you."

"I know. And same goes for you," Blaine smiled back.

Sebastian broke up the moment after a few minutes by bringing his arm back down and nudging his oldest friend shoulder's with his own. "_Full House_ moment over."

Sebastian was never quite comfortable with any type of serious, heartfelt conversation, and Blaine was surprised it had gone on so long in the first place.

"So, listen B, The Warblers' sectionals is this Friday night, and we'd all love for you to be there," Sebastian switched topics so fast that Blaine had a hard time following and it took him a minute to process what Sebastian had said.

When his brain finally caught up, Blaine had no idea how to answer. He honestly hadn't been expecting that one. The thought of going had never crossed his mind, He was at a loss. On one hand, he'd love to go, of course he would. He wanted to see his friends perform, be there to cheer them on and support them, watch them kick ass like they undoubtedly would. But on the other hand…It would be weird to sit in the audience and watch something he was normally a part of. To watch his friends perform without him. And the potential of someone seeing him and asking questions he wouldn't know how to, nor want to, answer was extremely high. Probably unavoidable.

"Let me think about it, okay? Figure out if it's even doable and if it's something I think I can deal with, y'know?"

Sebastian immediately felt like a jerk. Again. "Shit, B," He sighed, mad at himself all over again. He hadn't bothered to think of it from Blaine's perspective. Hadn't considered how hard or uncomfortasble it could potentially be for him. "Sorry, man. I wasn't thinking, of course you don't want to-"

Blaine cut off his friend abruptly. "It's not that I don't want to. Just…just give me a couple of days to mull it over, okay? I'll get you an answer by midweek," He promised.

Sebastian nodded, fidgeted with his sleeves for a second, then stood up, his signature smirk back in place all of the sudden. "C'mon. Puck and Santana are worried about you. And for the record, Santana isn't a cheerleader in her brain, she's figured out something is up between you and Puck."

"Fuck," Blaine muttered as he allowed Sebastian to pull him to his feet so they could go join Puck and Santana.

* * *

><p>Santana barely waited for Sebastian to close the door before she pounced on Puck, slapping him on the shoulder and ranting in Spanish for a few minutes.<p>

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what the hell?" Puck asked jumping back, and then rubbing his shoulder and glaring at her. "Cool it with the Spanish, I can't understand a damn word you're saying, you crazy bitch."

"Oh, you did not just call me crazy. I'll _show_ you crazy!"

"For fuck's sake, Santana would you calm the fuck down and tell me what the hell you're yelling at me about?"

"Uh, the fact that you've not only apparently decided you like guys now, but the guy you decide to go after is pretty much the most broken and fucked up guy in Ohio who could probably do with a few less complications in his life, not more?" Santana spit out through her teeth, waving her finger around at him while her other hand rested on her cocked out hip.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me right now?" Puck hissed right back, his blood boiling. "First off, you shouldn't get involved in situations that don't fuckin' concern you, second, you shouldn't judge things when you don't know the whole godamn story, and third, well, do you mind if I'm the pot this time? Of course I could be the kettle just as easily, since _they're both fuckin' black!_"

"Excuse me? Now who's _loco_?"

"Oh, give it up Santana! You want to give me shit because I'm suddenly finding myself falling for someone of the same sex, but at least I wasn't fucking you at the same time it was happening. Last I checked, the only reason you kept jumping in my bed was so you could pretend you weren't in love with Brittany."

Santana sputtered angrily for a few minutes, cheeks flaming red, and then out of nowhere her shoulders slumped in defeat. Leaning back against the side of Will's house, she lowered herself into a sitting position. "Is it that obvious?" She finally asked Puck in a small, scared and very un-Santana like voice.

"No. But I know you well enough to see it, and I can recognize when someone else is struggling with similar troubles," Puck replied, sitting next to her, his anger dissipating as quickly as the cheerleader's sitting next to him had.

"I wasn't using you," Santana began, only to be cut off by Puck waving a dismissive hand.

"Yes you were. But it's cool, I was using too to some degree. That's the way we've always been, San. We use each other for whatever purpose it currently serves."

"Well maybe now that we're both being honest with ourselves and with each other, we can stop using each other," Santana suggested, enjoying this new side of Puck, the one she'd never seen before. The one she doubted anyone had ever seen before except maybe Blaine. Who would have ever guessed that Noah Puckerman had a sensitive, caring side? "So in the spirit of honesty…how the hell did this happen? I mean, me and Brit, that's pretty much always been there to some degree. But you…and Blaine? What's that all about? Have you even thought this through? Does Blaine really need another complication in his life right now?"

Puck looked annoyed and his knee jerk response was to get defensive, but one look at Santana's face and he knew she wasn't trying to blame him. She was merely curious and concerned for a boy they were all just getting to know and care for.

"I…don't know. I know that sounds like a cop out, but it's not, I really don' know. I look at Blaine and I just see this guy who just needs someone to love him. And somehow, I became the one who loves him."

"Did Noah Puckerman just admit he was in love? I think that's even more surprising than you being gay," Santana kidded.

"I'm not-" Puck stopped mid-protest. He was in love with another guy. It would be tough to pedal the 'I'm not gay' speech to someone he just admitted that to. "I don't know what I am. Other than completely head over heels in love with-"

Santana had a sudden coughing fit, and Puck stopped talking turning to glare at her and seeing Blaine making his way out the door behind Sebastian.

"To be continued," Santana said with a pointed look to Puck, since she was still itching for all the details. Jumping up to her feet and clapping her hands, once again acting very un-Santana like she brightly suggested, "Why don't I drive Sebastian home. Puck you can come with to pick up your car."

Both boys nodded and Puck turned to Blaine, "Wanna go for a ride?"

Blaine hesitated, frowning, since going anywhere was a hassle, but he was dying to get away from the house for a bit, clear his mind. "I don't know if Will would be okay with that," He finally responded.

"Oh, please," Santana rolled her eyes, looking once again like the girl they knew. "Schue!" She yelled in the open door, waiting until she heard his distant response before continuing. "I'm driving Sebastian home and Puck to get his car and Blaine is coming with us!" She hollered back at her teacher.

A few seconds later Will appeared in the kitchen rubbing his temples. "I guess, Blaine you feel up to it?" Blaine nodded eagerly. Will still looked unsure but he wanted the house to himself for a bit almost as badly as Blaine wanted to leave the house. "All right," He conceded. "Noah, do you have your phone?"

"Yup," Puck said, glad he'd grabbed it after the police had arrived.

Will nodded. "If you stop anywhere else, text me or call me and let me know," The parenting thing was coming quite naturally to him now.

The four teenagers headed towards Santana's car and Puck said in a staged whisper to Blaine, "It's gonna be such a mood killer to have to call Will before we hop the plane to Amsterdam."

Will shook his head and headed back in the house. Santana got in the front seat, pulling it up as far as she could and sill drive so Puck could fit behind her. Sebastian pulled the passenger seat up as far as it went, sitting in what looked like a very uncomfortable position, so that Blaine could have room for his cast.

Puck frowned." I have a better idea." He sat behind the driver's seat, pulling his door shut and leaning back against it, laying his right leg across the back seat, motioning to Blaine to sit with him. Blaine glanced uneasily towards Santana and Sebastian, and Puck laughed. "Like they don't both know. C'mon." Blaine still looked insecure, but he laid his crutches across the floorboards and settled in between Puck's legs, leaning back into the other boy's chest and feeling arms immediately encircle him, pulling him tight.

"That works," Sebastian shrugged, pushing his seat back more and sighing in relief. Santana readjusted her seat as well, started the car, and backed out of the driveway.

The drive to Sebastian's was quiet, the silence broken only by Sebastian's occasional directions. Puck held Blaine tightly in his arms, and Blaine was nodding off in them, the Xanax making his eyelids heavy.

He was in that weird place, between sleep and wake, when Santana's voice pulled him completely back to the waking world.

"Holy shit you Dalton boys sure are fuckin' loaded."

Sebastian laughed in response as he got out of the car. "Thanks, Santana."

"No problem," She turned around. "Need any help?" She asked a half awake Blaine.

Blaine shook his head no, of course. He could be drowning in the ocean and if you asked him if he needed a hand he'd tell you no. Sebastian was already opening his door, though, and pulling his crutches out, before reaching back in and offering a hand. It took a few minutes but eventually Blaine was leaning on his crutches in Sebastian's driveway as the three boys all waved thank you and bye o Santana's tail lights.

"All right, unless you want to listen to my mother fret over you and offer to make you dinner eighteen times, you two had better get going before she makes it out here."

Blaine laughed, knowing Sebastian wasn't exaggerating. "Tell Lee and Donna I said hello. And I'll call you tomorrow or something and let you know, all right?"

"Sounds good. Later, See ya Puck. Thanks again."

"Anytime," Puck called over his shoulder, already helping Blaine into his car.

It seemed to take forever, but finally they made it in the car and were pulling out of Sebastian's driveway.

"Okay, I guess the guy isn't that bad after all," Puck admitted to Blaine as he scanned his iPod trying to decide on a band.

Blaine grinned and shook his head, then held his hand out for the iPod, which Puck grudgingly handed over. After searching for a minute, Blaine chose a song, and before the song started he told Puck, "I always wanted to sing this to my dad, see if he'd get why it reminds me of him."

A simple song began and Puck listened to the words, recognizing the band as The White Stripes.

_I guess you have to have a problem  
>If you want to invent a contraption<br>First you cause a train wreck_

_Then you put me in traction_

_Well first came an action  
>And then a reaction<br>But you can't switch around  
>For your own satisfaction<br>Well you burnt my house down  
>Then got mad at my reaction<em>

Well in every complicated situation  
>There's a human relation<br>Making sense of it all  
>Takes a whole lot of concentration<br>Well you can blame the baby  
>For her pregnant ma<br>And if there's one of these unavoidable laws

It's that you just can't just take the effect and make it the cause  
>No<p>

_Well you can't take the effect  
>And make it the cause<br>I didn't rob a bank  
>Because you made up the law<br>Blame me for robbing Peter  
>But don't you blame Paul<br>Can't take the effect  
>And make it the cause<em>

I ain't the reason that you gave me  
>No reason to return your call<br>You built a house of cards  
>And got shocked when you saw them fall<br>Well I ain't saying I'm innocent  
>In fact the reverse<br>But if you're heading to the grave  
>You Don't blame the hearse<br>You're like a little girl yelling at her brother  
>Cause you lost his ball<p>

You keep blaming me for what you did  
>But that ain't all<br>The way you clean up the wreck  
>Is enough to give one pause<br>You seem to forget just how this song started  
>I'm reacting to you<br>because you left me broken hearted

See you just can't just take the effect and make it the cause

Well you can't take the effect  
>And make it the cause<br>I didn't rob a bank  
>Because you made up the law<br>Blame me for robbing peter  
>But don't you blame Paul<br>Can't take the effect  
>And make it the cause<p>

Puck started to ask Blaine a question when the song ended, but Blaine yelled, "Watch out!"

He sounded so scared that Puck slammed on the brakes, not even positive what he was watching out for. "What the?" He asked, not seeing anything, glad no one had been behind him for they certainly would have smashed his trunk up to the front seat. "Hey! Blaine! What the hell are you doing?" Blaine was obviously unconcerned with the fact that he could barely get in and out of the car or the fact that they were in the middle of the street, seeing as he had thrown open his door and hobbled out. He limped in front of the car, as Puck watched, confused.

Puck got out after a few seconds, when Blaine bent down and didn't reappear.

He joined Blaine in front of the car to find Blaine crouched down rather awkwardly with his cast, cradling an object in his good arm, and speaking to said object.

"Oh my god, are you kidding me? You made me slam on my brakes and almost wreck for that?" Puck asked exasperated.

Blaine glared at Puck. "Yes."

In his arms he held a tiny, scraggly kitten. It was young, most likely barely over two months, and it looked like it had already had quite a rough life. It's fur, which was matted and dirty, was grey with black stripes, and it was possibly the most pitiful looking kitten Puck had ever seen. The thing was skinny as a rail, malnourished, flea-ridden and it kept attempting to mew but was either still too young or too dehydrated or both, because no sound came out at all.

"Awww. Poor little guy," Blaine murmured, cooing at the creature.

"Can we at least get out of the street?" Puck sighed. He had a sinking feeling Blaine had no intentions of letting this kitten go.

Puck helped Blaine back into the car, and rushed over to the driver's side as a pair of headlights swept into view behind them, lighting up the car from the back.

Puck put the car into gear and pressed the gas, just as Blaine exclaimed, "No way! Check it out!"

Glancing over, Puck immediately knew what had Blaine so excited. The headlights behind them had cast a shadow of the kitten, which sat facing forward, onto the dashboard. The shadow was only of the kittens head lit up from behind, and it was an exact replica of the shadow that Batman's cowl made when lit from behind.

"Oh no," Puck groaned. "Blaine don't you dare. Don't you do it, don't name that thing, if you name it we'll never get rid of-"

"Batman!" Blaine held the kitten up to his face, grinned at it, then hugged it to his chest.

"Fuck."


	39. Kitten

_AN: Holy shit you guys, check it out, I'm not dead! And neither is this fic…I hope! Enjoy this slight bit of fluffy fun, because coming up beginning of July, I have a 3 week vacation on my hands and I plan on focusing on this and 'Behind the Mask' with all engines and it will be full angst ahead for both fics! R&R if you want, or just read and enjoy silently! Sorry for the…what…eight month delay in updates? I have a myriad of excuses to offer all of my loyal readers, all of which I think are acceptable, but who cares, that was unfair to you guys and I do apologize and hope some of you are still interested in StS! So, without further ado, here is Chapter 39 which I'm sure we'd all begun to think was never gonna exist, myself included. So psyched to delve back into Blaine and Puck's story, and I hope I have some of my old readers on board still! And I know this chapter is a __**lot **__shorter than what you've grown accustomed to, but this is just to 'dip everyone's feet in the water', if you will, get everyone re-acclimated and back on board. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>Whether you realize it or not, every single night you have hope. You have faith. You have trust. But honestly? You have no guarantee of tomorrow. You go to bed each and every evening and the universe doesn't give you a signed promise note that you will wake up the next day. But what do you do every night? You set your alarm clock. You dread getting up in the morning. You hope for a two hour delay or a call from work telling you that you can have the time off. That's called hope. That's called faith. That's called trust. Hope for tomorrow. Faith it will come. Trusting that everything will be all right. Whether or not you realize that you want a tomorrow, the mere fact that you set your alarm clock to wake up for it shows that you trust and hope it will come, even when you think you don't want it to. Whether you realize it or not, every single night you have hope. You have trust. You have faith. You also have no guarantee of tomorrow. But you believe in it anyway, do you not?<p>

* * *

><p>"It's open!" Will called in response to the knocking at his office door.<p>

Noah poked his head in. "You should come to the living room with me. See what Blaine brought home," He suggested with a mischievous smirk.

"Do I want to know?" Will asked warily.

Puck grinned a slightly evil grin and shrugged his shoulders before sauntering off, leaving Will with no choice but to finish grading papers later and follow him.

When he saw Blaine on the living room floor, coaxing some milk into a tiny kitten he made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle.

He shook his head, smeared his face with his palm, cleared his throat and then asked Blaine, "It would be pointless for me to try and convince you not to keep it, wouldn't it?"

Blaine gave a cautious nod and turned a hopeful face to Will. "So I can keep Batman?" He asked shyly.

"You named the cat Batman?" Will asked humorously. Again Blaine nodded. Again will shook his head in amusement. "Yes, Batman can stay. But you're responsible for him. Feeding him, cleaning his litter box, making sure he doesn't chew cords or sharpen claws on my furniture, and keeping him clean. That starts with a flea bath. He can stay in the bathroom while you boys run to the pet store for supplies, I'm going to trust you two and send my credit card with you. Just buy pet stuff. Food, litter box, litter, treats, kitten milk, toys, scratching posts, and get him a collar and an ID tag as well, okay?"

Blaine had a huge smile on his face and when Puck had helped him stand up he surprised Will by giving him a hug. It was the first time Blaine had not recoiled and voluntarily touched Will, much less hugged him. Will knew better than to acknowledge this though, so he just went with it, and handed off his credit card.

"I want a receipt!" He yelled after the boys, both of whom waved in response as the front door closed behind them.

* * *

><p>"<em>No fuckin' way!"<em> Puck insisted for what felt like the tenth time.

"It's adorable!" Blaine insisted right back, holding up the blue and white checkered bow tie cat collar.

"You can _not_ name a cat a bad ass name like Batman and then and put him in a damn bow tie!"

"You can so! Bruce Wayne wore tons of bow ties!"

"Then call him Bruce!"

"Only in front of company so they don't realize his true identity."

"You have issues!"

"You're just now realizing this?" Blaine rolled his eyes and tossed the offending collar in the shopping cart. Puck waited until Blaine was distracted by the cat toys to remove the bow tie collar and replace it with a black one with some badass skull and crossbones on it.

"I saw that," Blaine muttered, as the pair moved on to the next aisle. But he didn't change the collars out, hoping that if Puck chose an item that Batman would wear as often as his collar than maybe Puck would bond with batman as he had within the first five seconds of seeing the cat.

Blaine didn't know what exactly it was, but when he'd seen that damned mongrel, mewing pathetically in the middle of the road, his heart strings had been tugged and all he had wanted was to save the kitten. He was so young, so full of life, and yet already so beaten down by a cruel and unforgiving world. Blaine merely wanted to show Batman that not all humans were bad, introduce him to a life of love and maybe spoil him just bit, as proved by Blaine spending over twenty minutes picking out the best kitten food for his newfound baby.

"Oh my _God_, are you done?" Puck whined an half an hour later, looking not unlike a three year old about to throw a tantrum in the middle of a department store.

"Yup," Blaine grinned, not looking at all sorry for making him troop around a pet store for so long. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>The two teenagers made their way into Will's house, Puck carrying more shopping bags than he deemed necessary for one kitty, and Blaine behind him, grinning ear to ear and softly calling for 'Batman'.<p>

Surprisingly enough, the tiny kitten came streaking out of the open bathroom door at the sound of Blaine's voice, immediately heading to the broken teen and rubbing against his leg, purring and begging to be cuddled. Will was right behind the kitten and couldn't escape the grin that he let out at the sight of Blaine picking up the helpless creature and cooing to it, as Puck ushered them all back towards the bathroom, a bottle of flea shampoo held firmly in his hands.

After a lot of arguing (on the kitten's part) and a lot of swearing (on Puck's part) the trio eventually made it back into Puck and Blaine's bedroom, where Blaine immediately curled up in his bed, snuggling the still slightly damp kitten close and whispering about 'the mean, evil Puck' and how he didn't mean the words he'd spoken in anger.

"I did so," Puck argued, climbing in bed with Blaine and Batman. _God, that sounded weird._

"Mommy's just mad," Blaine assured the animal.

"Excuse me? _Mommy_?" Puck spoke up, seething.

"Well obviously I'm his daddy since he clings to me, so…" Blaine trailed off with a grin.

"Bullshit!" Puck cried. "I'm no one's mommy!"

"Okay," Blaine responded with a shrug, smirking because he knew _exactly_ how to get Puck to say otherwise. "Tell _daddy_ goodnight."

"_I'm no one's daddy either!_" Puck added angrily from the sidelines, already beginning to hate the damn cat.


End file.
